


Better Days

by heroicdean



Series: Missing 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Gen, Hunters, Supernatural - Freeform, Trials, triumph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-23 00:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 57,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14320335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroicdean/pseuds/heroicdean
Summary: AU. Prequel to the "Missing" verse. Caleb River's life is turned completely upside down by the murder of his wife. With growing police scrutiny surrounding the questionable events surrounding his wife's death, he feels like he has nowhere to turn to. When two strange men inform him that there is more to his wife's death than meets the eye, it is only the beginning of a new life that he never saw coming.





	1. Chapter 1

The shaking and trembling man was escorted into the dark and impersonal interrogation room at the police department downtown. The room was bare, with only a metal table and three chairs placed around it in a way that made the man know that it was set-up to maximize the success of an interrogation of a suspect. The art of closeness that sometimes got a suspect talking without them even realizing it. It was a technique he had been briefed on by his father, who used to be an officer in the very department he was now walking into. Looking down at his hands, he saw they were shaking and sweating. Shifting his gaze to the floor, he saw it was almost too dark in the room to see it.

Taking a seat where he was directed by the friendly-enough woman, who looked to be in her thirties. He adjusted his position on the metal chair that dug into his sore back after a long day at his construction company. He was the assistant manager-a promotion that had only recently happened after his manager assumed he would be perfect for the job. He had so much to look forward to in his life-everything seemed to be going great-but then that night happened. That night Caleb Rivers returned home after working a long shift, and found his wife, the love of his life, dead. The words could not even make it past his shattered mind before an involuntary sob worked its way past his defenses. She was _dead_. _Murdered_. By what? He had no idea, but only a sick person would be capable of committing the horror he had seen.

Shaking his head, trying his best to shake the images from his mind, as though it would be possible, he took another look around the room he was sequestered in, and saw a strange rectangular mirror that he knew was a two-way for the officers to look into while the subject was being interrogated. Growing up with a father as a respected member of the law enforcement community, Caleb knew things that others did not about the way these rooms worked, and how the people in charge of them, used them for their line of work. It was a delicate thing, interrogation a suspect after the death (or murder) of someone close to them. His father had been an excellent interrogator during his time, before he moved to on-the-call jobs that rarely resulted in anything too outlandish.

It stunned Caleb to think that he was now the one in the 'hot seat' of interrogation. He understood perfectly that as someone close to his wife, he had to be the one who they first interviewed so they could rule him out as a suspect. In truth, he had no idea _why_ they would seriously suspect him after their talk: He had been at work after being called in to cover a shift for an MIA employee-it was an alibi that anyone could have accounted for had they been asked. In ruling him out, Caleb knew they would have no choice but to cover their tracks and check into everything. It was the part of the police business that Caleb liked the most: the investigative part of it. The part where the police and detectives crossed all their T's and dotted all their I's.

Still, he could not believe that _he_ was the one in the position of being talked to by the police after the most _impossible_ thing happened to him. Scrubbing a hand over his tired eyes, he could feel the moisture collecting behind them and he tried his hardest to keep himself from falling apart like he was sorely tempted to. It would not help him keep himself controlled enough to answer the prying questions of the interrogators. Clenching his teeth, his eyes unwillingly fell on his wedding band. It did not seem real that his wedding was nearly four years ago. A time when everything had been much simpler and happier. A time when he swore he could conquer the world. When he was in love, and he and his precious wife were on top of the world.

He was not able to stop the tears that fell past the guards in his eyes. Furiously swiping his fingers through his eyes, they ached almost as much as his heart did. It did not seem realistic that the human body could hold so much pain and grief without the person collapsing from the weight of it. But he was enduring it, and he had no idea how he was, either. The shock of what he found in his home, numbed him to a certain point, but not enough that he could shove away what he saw. He wished he could wake up in his home, with Katie by his side, and have it all be a stupidly horrific realistic dream. But, as he was quickly realizing, it was not a dream.

Turning his head to look over his shoulder when the door opened with a _creak_ that resounded in his ears, it was only the same woman who had brought him there. She was back with a Styrofoam cup of coffee that she set down in front of him. Pausing to give him a look of sympathy, she made a hasty exit for the door. Her position probably did not allow her much time to socialize and communicate her sorrow for the loss of life people were going through. She had probably seen many people like him come in for late night chats like this one. Taking the cup in his hand, it shook. Inhaling some of the lukewarm coffee, it slid down Caleb's throat, creating a comforting burn.

Hours earlier, he was enjoying his first coffee of the day in the security of his own kitchen that he helped build. The house had been a project from the beginning. Katie loved the idea of bringing new life to a place that had been dead for so many years. Even with his background as a construction worker, the project was a massive undertaking that required many capable hands working on it with them. The result had been a home that bore no resemblance to the house they took on as a fixer upper. The kitchen and bedroom were his favorites to unwind and relax after a long day.

Looking at the swirling contents of the coffee, he choked down some more of the energy giving drink. It was too black and needed sugar and cream. Katie liked to joke that he often drank more cream than coffee. It was unfortunately true. Adjusting his position in his chair, he tried to allow himself to feel some amount of comfort that whoever killed his wife, would soon be brought to justice. There was simply no way that anyone in the force would allow a killer to remain free.

Caleb heard the footsteps outside the door before it opened. From what his trained ears could pick up, it sounded like two pairs of footsteps. It gave him time to prepare for the onslaught of questions that would come his way. He wanted this to be over with so he could go somewhere and pick up what was left of his life. Looking over at the door when it opened, he got his first glance of the investigators who would be interviewing him. They both wore looks of concern, and both looked to be eager to get the job over with.

One of them, balding and gray in the visible areas of his hair, looked to be in his mid-to-late fifties. He confidently approached the table Caleb was seated in, and shook his hand in a firm grasp. Caleb assumed he would be the one leading the investigation. Directing his focus to his partner, he was met with a younger man who looked like he might be in training, based on the uncomfortable approach he took. His father had trained him to recognize these subtle details. Leaning back in his seat, he waited while they took their spots across from him.

"Caleb Rivers?"

A nod in answer. The older man reached behind him, and switched on the overhead light above the table. The sudden rough light was enough to momentarily blind Caleb, before he adjusted to the sudden brightness in the room. It helped to be able to focus on something other than the perpetual darkness he had been in.

"I'm Detective Allen." The detective gestured to his younger partner. "This is my partner, Detective Reynolds."

Caleb nodded at them, acknowledging their presence. They seemed to be expecting a reaction from him that he could not understand. Did they expect him to show enthusiasm at finally meeting them when it felt like he had been waiting for hours? Trying to reign his emotions in before he did something stupid, he took a steadying breath, and forced himself to try his response again.

"Hi." He was shocked at how raw and cracked his voice sounded, and how dry and achy his throat felt. The result of not drinking anything apart from the coffee, and the tears he had shed since earlier that evening. Gauging their reactions, he saw nothing but professionalism, and sympathy for his plight.

"I apologize to you for the wait," Allen said. "We were in a bit of a time crunch trying to obtain witness statements, and check in with the crime scene team." He reached for a manila folder that was already thick. "It says here that Officer Abrams was the first responder on the scene. Do you remember talking with him?"

Caleb shook his head, taking another gulp of coffee. "I can't even remember my own name right now."

He was sure he remembered the first officer on the scene. He came before the rush of ambulances and police cars, and had quickly secured the area and made sure that Caleb was not in the way of what the crime scene team would be doing. He recalled the man perfectly, but not his name. He had been kind to him, had tried to reassure him that they would do everything they could to find the killer responsible for his wife's death. At the time, Caleb had nodded numbly, too shell-shocked to say much else.

The events of the night had left him shocked that he was still standing upright, and wasn't buckling from the weight of the pain that was quickly eclipsing his heart and soul. He used to watch murder mysteries with his parents and wife, and never thought that the misfortune that came down on innocent souls, would ever happen to him. This kind of thing was not supposed to happen to them. He didn't have any enemies. Neither did his wife. Both kept to themselves, and didn't draw attention.

Allen nodded slowly, looking down to write something in the impressive folder he had already accumulated with evidence. "It's understandable. It's been, for lack of a better word, a hell of a night. We'll try to wrap this up quickly so you can go."

That was a relief to know they did not intend on keeping him there longer than necessary. There was no way that he intended on going back to his home. Even if he wanted to, it was a crime scene. He had options for where he would go, and that was all that mattered. Not that he entertained the thought of getting much sleep when he was sure that he would be assailed on all sides by nightmares.

"I appreciate it." Stretching his sore muscles, he noticed how shaky his hands still were.

"This questioning that we do is standard for any...investigation of this sort," Reynolds explained. "I'm sure you understand." He nodded at Caleb. "We have to grasp the dynamics at play here, and get a clearer picture of what might have transpired."

Caleb nodded, already way too familiar with this from the TV shows he had seen, and from the firsthand knowledge he had gotten from his father. It was hard not to take offense that the police were already wanting to speak with him, but he was happy to steer them away from him and on to whoever was cruel enough to take his family from him. As the husband, he would be the prime suspect until otherwise cleared. "I do."

"How long were you and your wife married?" Allen asked pen poised to write his answer down.

"Three years," Caleb replied, once he was aware he had yet to answer their question. It was hard to remember to speak when his mind was beginning to play a highlight reel of the happiest day of his life when he watched his wife walk down the aisle. It had been a blissful day that he wouldn't trade for anything.

"Did you have a long courtship?"

Caleb shrugged, shaking his head. "About a year of dating, and then about six months of planning the wedding."

Allen smiled, trying to get Caleb to loosen up. "It can be pretty stressful planning a wedding, am I right?"

Caleb shook his head, perfectly recalling the stress of creating the perfect wedding that would make Katie happy. It wasn't about him-he would have been happy to get married in jeans and a t-shirt-but she wanted something more. She wanted her princess wedding, and he was happy to oblige that.

"She wanted this big wedding, and how could I say no to that? It would have been great to get married in what I'm wearing right now, but she wanted the whole ordeal."

"Was it a happy marriage?" Reynolds asked, taking a sip of his own coffee.

Glancing at the clock, Caleb saw that it was pushing midnight. He had been sitting in the interrogation room for over two hours, and had come home only hours earlier to find the horrific bloodbath that awaited him when he walked inside their home. Scraping the tears from his eyes before they could regain control over him, he thought about the question that had been posed to him. Shoving back the indignant response that was tempting him, he tried to look at it rationally.

"Yeah, it was," Caleb spoke honestly. It was hard not to feel offended at their pointed questions, but he knew these people had a job to do. "We were _very_ happy."

Happiness was actually an understatement. Everything had been going great for them. They had secured a new home months previously, and had then spent a small fortune remodeling it from the fixer upper status they had found it in, to something suitable for a married couple. Then came the joyful news in their own life that was making this tragedy even more of a blow to him.

"You got a new job?" Allen prompted, looking down at his detailed notes.

"A promotion. I was just moved up to assistant manager."

The promotion could not have come at a better time in their marriage and lives. He had put in for the job, but after so long of not hearing a word about it, he had started to think that it was all for nothing. A week before the murder took place, his boss had called him into his office to deliver the news in person. To say that he and his wife were ecstatic, had been the understatement of the century.

Reynolds nodded, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "And your wife? What was up with her?"

Everything and anything she could get her hands on. A new home that needed her expert attention to detail, and then organizing their lives around his newest promotion only the week before. It was tough for him to handle the stress of the new things in their lives, but she seemed to handle it like nothing ever phased her. Which he knew had to be a complete lie when he thought back on it.

"She was into everything. We just got a new house, and she put herself in charge of redecorating it."

"Wouldn't let you near it?" Allen pressed.

"Not unless I wanted to lose a hand." Caleb laughed, it felt forced. "Especially near the bedroom. That was her little safe haven. It was both of ours."

"Anything else that would be pressing and could create some stress?"

Caleb nodded; he did not think that this would be a source of stress, but he knew that it was something that had to be mentioned to the detectives. "She was-we recently found out that she was pregnant." It was one of the most shocking and euphoric moments of his life when Katie presented him with the pregnancy test. Even to his untrained eye, he knew it was something good judging from her giddiness. Their entire lives, especially recently, had turned out to be a victory.

This was information that they were clearly not privy to before he divulged it. Exchanging looks with each other, Allen wrote it down in the notes section that was already getting more than enough attention. Caleb was interested what they were writing, which direction they were taking with the investigation. Resisting the urge to look, he focused on the gentle tick of the clock, and the scratching sound of the pen on the paper.

"She was pregnant?" Reynolds asked.

"She was," Caleb quietly confirmed.

It chilled him to the bone to think of the unknown murderer breaking into his home for the express purpose of murdering his wife and unborn child. The thought of it made him want to vomit the empty contents of his stomach. To lose his wife was absolutely heartrending, but to lose the child that he wanted for so long, was about more than he could bear.

"How far along was she?" Allen asked, trying his best to handle the subject as delicately as he could.

"Four months." They had just gone to the doctor for her four month checkup. Everything had gone well, and he had even gotten a chance to see his baby on the ultrasound screen. The images were blurry, but he could see his baby and hear the heartbeat. It was strong, and reminded him of his or her mother. Katie was strong when he wasn't, and losing that strength was mind-blowing.

"Was this a planned pregnancy?"

"One hundred and ten percent."

It made Caleb cringe thinking of the hours and days spent wondering why they were not getting pregnant when they both wanted it so badly. That had been a dream they did not wait on after they got married. They both wanted kids, and they both were crushed when it did not happen until nearly two years after their wedding took place.

"Were there any issues with money in regards to the baby?" Reynolds asked.

Caleb shook his head. "None."

"No pressure to get promoted in order to make more for the  baby?"

"No, that wasn't the reason I went after the promotion."

He had done it to make more money for them to have after the baby was born so he could take time off to be with them. All the hours spent decorating the nursery with the perfect neutral colors had been in vain. All the hours of labor Katie had poured into choosing outfits, even though it was months before she would get to use them, had been for nothing. It was heartbreaking when he thought of the lives that had been cruelly ripped from him for no reason.

"We understand that sometimes when a woman is pregnant, and there's extra financial responsibility, it can create some unforeseen stress. It happens that sometimes people just end up snapping."

Caleb did _not_ like where this line of questioning was headed. He knew their tactic was to smoothly slide into the part of the interrogation where they would launch into their theory as to what his possible involvement was. Still, it was horrifying that they were even considering him to be a part of her death when all evening he had tried his best to portray them as the couple he thought of themselves as. Opening and closing his mouth several times to gain clarity before responding, he ignored the painful throbbing sensations his heart was making.

"That wasn't the case with us." He knew that to be fact, and he comforted himself with the knowledge that he had truth on his side.

"Did you argue right before for any reason? It could be for money?" Allen prompted.

"Or just the stress of it all," Reynolds added.

This was not good. Not good _at all_. Were they trying to create a motive for her murder that was based off money? Or stress? In his right mind, Caleb knew that was likely not the sole reason they were asking these kinds of detailed questions, but it was difficult to steer his mind in a sane direction.

"I was at work all day."

"What about before?"

"There was no arguing. We were in bed, and then she got up to make breakfast."

That image of her making breakfast for the two of them, smiling over her shoulder at him as he entered, was the one thing he chose to remember about that day. Right before he had gone off to work and left his pregnant wife without any defense.

"Where do you work?" Allen asked. His eyes bore into Caleb's, almost as though he hoped to gain the truth from reading his mind.

"Miller Construction. It's a smaller firm on 8th Street."

"What about your hours? Are they pretty consistent?" Reynolds asked, directing his questioning to something lighter.

"It depends. Usually pretty regular."

It was a cruel twist of fate that he had to stay later that night to cover a shift for an employee that had not showed up to work. If it had not happened that way, Caleb knew that he would have been home on time to spare his wife from the murder that took her life. Tearing his thoughts from the pointless what-if questions that assaulted his mind, he focused back on the interrogation at hand. Their questions, he knew, would not get any easier. In fact, he knew from seeing it happen, they would only get harder.

"When you got home did you notice anything out of the ordinary?" Allen asked, adjusting his glasses on the his nose.

Caleb shook his head; it was eery to think of how perfectly calm and smooth everything looked when he first pulled in. "Everything was fine."

"No windows were broken? Garage door was down?"

"Yes, and yes."

Katie was not a stupid person. She would not have let a random person into her home without him there. That was what did not make sense about any of what had taken place that night. The very fact that nothing had been broken to gain entry into the home. No windows were smashed, no doors were kicked in. It was almost as if the assailant had walked right in.

"When you first walked in, what did you notice?"

These were the hard questions he had been dreading. He was sure the memory would be seared into his memory forever. "Nothing at first-"

"When did you _first_ notice something? And then what did you do?"

"It was when-" Caleb paused long enough to regain control over his tears. He hated to cry in front of people, and he hated that his eyes were pushing tears out of his eyes like bricks. "It was when I was walking into the kitchen."

"What direction would that be from?" The two detectives were both furiously writing notes now.

"From the dining room. The kitchen was just about adjacent to there. I noticed a smell, and I just thought something had cooked wrong. I never thought-"

"Did you walk in the kitchen?" Reynolds interjected.

"Yes."

"Did you find her there?" Allen asked, taking over.

Caleb nodded. "Y-Yes."

"What did you do then?"

"I grabbed the phone, and called 911." Shouldn't it be obvious that was what he had done?

"Did you do anything to try to revive her?"

"Of course I did."

The detectives both nodded. "Did you notice anything missing?"

"No."

Not that he had time to search the place and determine if anything had been stolen. His main priority had been his wife.

"We recovered a weapon at the scene that we believe was the one used in the attack."

That was new.

Caleb had no idea that the police had already zeroed in on a possible murder weapon. It made the entire situation even that more real, and it was absolutely horrifying to him, as he forced himself to remain calm, and not let himself pass out like his body was trying to tell him to do.

"You _did_?" he finally said, mustering up the strength to speak.

"Yes."

Pulling out a large, clear evidence bag they laid it flat against the table. Leaning foreword, Caleb tried to look past the blood stains, and at the knife in general. It was one of theirs. It was a knife Katie had been using to make some kind of crock pot dinner when he had been about ready to leave for work.

Tearing his eyes away from the hideous object, he couldn't stop the tears that trailed down his face as he raised his hand to his mouth, trying as hard as he could to pull it together for the rest of the interview.

"That's ours," he choked.

"It is?" the detectives asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Yes. I saw her with it this morning before I left for work."

"We had it tested for fingerprints, and we should get the results back fairly soon."

"Thank you."

"In the meantime, is there anyone that can verify that you were at work during the hours that you mentioned?" Allen pressed.

"Excuse me?"

"We need an alibi from you so we can begin the process of ruling you out as a suspect. Who can we speak with that can account for your location?"

"Um...you can speak with my boss."

"Was he there tonight?"

Caleb shook his head. "No."

"We need someone who can physically confirm your location during the time the murder happened, and when you say you were at work," Reynolds clarified.

"You can speak with any of the employees there. They can tell you," Caleb said tiredly, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Are you looking at me as a suspect?"

"Right now we're looking at _everyone_ as potential suspects," Allen explained, "and it's _our_ job to clear as many people as we can."

"I have nothing to hide," Caleb said with a shrug. "I'm not a liar, either. Call the store, talk to any of the people there that you want to."

"We will do that."

"Can I leave now?"

"Yes."

Rising from his seat, he was somewhat surprised that he still had function over his frozen limbs.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It couldn't be true that she was gone—that he had just sat through a brutal police questioning because of her death—and it couldn't be real that she died at the hands of a _murderer_ , someone who had broken into their home and decided to be her judge, jury and executioner. And their unborn child, whom Caleb had only had the chance to see on ultrasound imaging. He would have screamed, cried, yelled at the universe for punishing him like this, but he didn't have the energy. As he walked out of the stuffy room, down the hall, and out of the police station, Caleb was positive he had experienced every negative human emotion there was. 

It had been exhausting to come home after a long night of work, only to find his wife lying in a pool of her own blood in the kitchen, and then have to face the seemingly endless amount of scrutiny and questions that he had been presented with after the fact.

Even though he knew, from having a police officer as a father, that the police automatically looked to the spouse first as a suspect, it had still been slightly disconcerting to realize that that was what they thought when they looked at him. The fact there was even the slightest chance they believed he might have something to do with her death. It was numbing to let the realization sink in that his life would never be the same again.

He would never have the privilege of welcoming his child into the world-and never get the opportunity to watch Katie become a mother. He would never watch his child grow old and have a family of their own. More than that, he and Katie would never get to do the things they wanted to do with their lives once they got older. They had plans that would never come to fruition now.

Scrubbing a hand over his sore, itchy eyes that were because of his utter exhaustion, he slid into his car, mindful of how fast his heart was pounding as he eased the vehicle into drive. What was he supposed to do now that his wife was dead, and his entire future in shambles? Where was he supposed to _go_? How was he supposed to rebuild his life after something like this?

The second the police had arrived on the scene, they had sealed his house off, declaring it an official crime scene. Even _if_ he had been allowed back, he was sure he wouldn't. The place that had once been full of so many joyful memories, as he and his wife labored to make it special and beautiful for their expanding family, was now marred by the fact that she had died there, that someone had broken into their home and had murdered them in cold blood.

Shaking his head at the enormity of what had happened in the span of only a few hours, he finally started the car and headed down the lonely, empty streets. Most normal people were in bed at that hour, oblivious to the horror that had befallen their cozy town. In a small town like the one they lived in, a murder was rare. It usually happened in the big cities, but not here where people knew each other since they were little.

Since the town was so small and perfect for raising families, there was not a lot of time for Caleb to make up his mind where he wanted to go. He could stay in a hotel while the police worked through the investigation and he was cleared. Or he could go somewhere more personal. His options were limited, and he knew he had to make up his mind before the next stoplight, which led either to a newer neighborhood, or the other direction, which would take him to the freeway.

He could go to his brother's house—he and his brother had always been fairly close—and he had helped him when it had come time to put up the decorations for the house, the ones that had required the manpower that he was incapable of doing alone. He had been the driving force in helping his big brother overcome the death of their parents by natural causes, and finally move on with his life.

If anyone would help him pick up the shattered pieces of his life, it would be his brother. Deciding on a whim to follow his instincts, he turned the car into the small neighborhood that his brother resided in. Scanning the houses that were all bunched together, he finally pulled into the house at the end of the street, the only one with a race boat in the driveway. Shaking his head when he thought about when his brother made that purchase, he remembered the confusion on their parent's faces when he unveiled it to them.

Smiling slightly, he got out and went up to the front door. Years ago when his brother had bought the house, he had gifted Caleb with his own key to the place to use in case of emergencies. Never more grateful for it than he was right then, he searched through his keyring before finally selecting the one that would grant him access to his brother's bachelor pad.

It wasn't anything fancy—just big enough for his brother and the various animals that he had to keep him company. Pausing briefly in the dark to scratch behind the ears of a puppy that greeted him, he kept on his intended path as he turned a sharp corner, and walked down the hallway until he reached the bedroom door on the immediate left.

Pausing only briefly outside the door, he could hear his brother snoring inside. Letting himself in the room, it was hard to navigate around the clumps of clothes that had been left in messy heaps in various places. Stepping on a wet washcloth that squeaked under his shoes, he approached the bed that looked clean for the most part, apart from the loose clothes on them.

"Jared," he whispered, stopping once he was standing over him, as he reached out a hand to shake his shoulder. "Dude, wake up!" he hissed, getting tired of waiting for his brother to wake up from the deep sleep that he was known to enjoy.

When they had been younger, it had been something that Caleb had _loved_ making fun of him for, especially when his chronic sleeping problem had resulted in him missing the bus more than once, but when this was something _dire_ , it was more of an annoyance than anything else.

"Wha-" his brother mumbled, rolling over partway on his side to look at the person that had rudely interrupted his sleep. "What the _hell_ are you doing here, bro?"

"I have a _huge_ problem," Caleb said, as he took matters into his own hands and whipped the covers off his brother, and turned on the bedside light. "Something happened." That was the understatement of the century, but his brother wasn't nearly awake enough to dump this information on.

"Light! Not good," Jared protested, as he batted Caleb's hand away. "Whatever it is, couldn't it have waited until I was actually _awake_? Or when it wasn't," he paused in his statement as he glanced at his alarm clock. "One in the _morning_?"

"No, it couldn't," Caleb said, flicking some clothes off the bed while Jared groggily sat up.

"Fine," he said with a groan. "What's the problem? And if you guys had another fight, just apologize, get her some flowers and chocolate, and it will be fine-"

Caleb had to muster the emotional energy to speak what he spoke next: "She's-she's _dead_ , Jare."

Those three words stopped him in his speech, as he turned exhausted, disbelieving eyes to face his younger brother. Even though they both liked to joke around with each other, this was something that he knew Caleb would _never_ tease about. That realization _alone_ was enough to get him the rest of the way out of bed, and up to face his brother.

In all their years of living together, Caleb knew his brother had never seen the amount of pain and shock that was on his face. Jared drew him into a hug. Normally they were never that touchy-feely with each other, but Caleb allowed the hug. It was the only such comfort he had received that night.

"What happened?" he asked, as Caleb followed him out to the kitchen where he set about making a cup of coffee that would hopefully sustain both of them through the upcoming conversation they were about to have.

"I—I honestly don't _know_ ," Caleb shook his head, accepting the steaming cup he was offered. "I came home late, and when I got there-"

"Where...where did you find...her?"

"In the kitchen." Caleb was sure he would never be able to look at a kitchen the same way again. Raising the cup to his mouth, he inhaled a gulp of the liquid. It burned as it traveled down his throat, but it felt good and gave him a much needed jolt.

"What do the police think happened?" Jared asked, studying his brother carefully.

"They haven't said. They started interviewing a bunch of people. I was the first on the list."

"Of _course_ ," Jared retorted with a snort. "You know what Dad always said-"

"I was there for about two hours answering the same set of questions _over_ and _over_ again."

"Do you think they consider you to be a suspect yet?"

"They haven't said it in those _words_ yet, but I know that's what they're thinking, at least until they can rule me out."

"Right."

"So what now? What am I supposed to do? My house is a crime scene, and my wife and kid are both dead."

Jared shook his head, setting his cup down. "You can stay here for as long as you need to. The other stuff, we'll figure out as it comes."

"Thank you."

"Anytime. I'll let you know how much I charge for rent," he added teasingly, trying to loosen the mood up a little bit, even though he knew that would be an impossible job to accomplish.

"You're such an !@#$%^&*."

"You know it."

* * *

_The morning was clear—nice and sunny with the birds chirping and the different lawnmowers moving in synchronization. It was a peaceful, idyllic setting, and that was what Caleb enjoyed best about living in a small town, where people stopped to wave to one another, and always supported each other through the good and bad._

_It wasn't a bad place to raise a family, either, and that was why Caleb and Katie had made the choice to return back to his roots and put a down payment on a house that they had been looking at for some time, and were afraid would be taken out from under them._

_Though the inevitable remodeling process had been long and drawn out, thanks to a few glitches in the system when it came to the more than unreliable contractors they hired, the job had eventually been done, and when they had stood back to appraise their work, they were looking at a completely different home with modernized features, and a healthier foundation to settle down in._

_That had been months ago, and while he had enjoyed getting his hands dirty and helping speed along the process, he was just glad that it was all over and done with, and he could enjoy the fruits of his labor._

_Walking through the hall and down the stairs, he was immediately greeted by the inviting aroma of homemade biscuits and pancakes. Smiling contentedly to himself, he swung around the corner and into the kitchen, where Katie was putting the finishing touches on her meal._

" _Morning, baby," she said, turning once she heard his approach. "Want some?"_

" _You bet," he said, as he grabbed a plate for himself. "You better take it easy, though," he warned._

_Recently, much to their incredulity and relief, Katie had learned that she was pregnant with their first baby. It had been a long road of trying for something they both wanted and were both prepared for, and yet it hadn't come for nearly three years, until just recently._

" _I know," she said, "I'm being careful."_

" _Your doctor said-"_

" _I_ know _what he said," she replied, rolling her eyes, "and I have a handle on it."_

_Her early months of the pregnancy had been tainted with near constant morning sickness, and her doctor had ordered her to take it easy, and not overdo it on herself. So far, she had rebelled against his rules, and had taken on much more than she should have, including decorating the nursery, and getting up early to make breakfast._

" _I know," he said, "but I'm only looking out for you_ and _for little junior in there."_

" _How do you know it's a he?" she asked coyly._

" _Because I_ do _," he replied firmly._

" _Well, you're going to have to be a little more convincing than that."_

" _How so?"_

" _Because," she said, pausing briefly to lift her head up to capture his lips in a kiss. "A woman's intuition is unbeatable."_

" _That's funny."_

_Reaching down for his tool belt, he fastened it quickly around his waist. Over the last few months, he had grown accustomed to carrying around its heavy bulk as he walked around the shop, and was just glad for the opportunity that it gave him._

" _Do you have to work?" she asked, her lips turning downward._

_Even though she had championed for him to get the promotion, she hadn't taken into account the longer hours he would be required to work, and the often unpredictable schedule he had to adhere to sometimes._

" _Yeah. My boss needs me to cover a shift for one of the guys who flaked on us again," he said, shaking his head in irritation at the tardiness of some of the employees that his company employed._

" _That's not fair that they make_ you _pick up the slack for something that someone_ else _did," she remarked, frowning._

" _I know. I_ completely _agree, but I'm not the one that makes up the rules around there."_

_He agreed with her that it wasn't fair that they made him work longer hours to compensate for an employee skipping out on a day, but it was the only way that he would bring home the paycheck, and the only way he would be able to keep the job that had sustained them through a lot._

" _I wish you did."_

" _Me, too."_

" _What time are you coming back?" she asked._

" _Around nine, after closing."_

" _Okay," she said, as she allowed him to give her one final goodbye kiss._

" _Have a good day," he said, as he prepared to leave. "I'll call you on my break."_

" _Sounds good. Wait," she added, as she saw him turn to go. "You forgot someone."_

" _How could I forget?" he said, smiling, as he bent down to kiss her stomach. "See you later."_

" _Bye."_

* * *

It was a miracle he had even gotten to sleep that night—even though it had been a restless one—and one spent tossing and turning as he tried to rid his mind of the horrific images that it had seen that night.

The dream he had was the last time he had ever laid eyes on her again—alive, at least. It was something that he would undoubtedly treasure later on, but right then, it had been the _last_ thing he had wanted to see, subconsciously or not.

"Hey," Jared said, coming into the room.

"What time is it?" Caleb asked, daring to open his eyes, and almost immediately regretting it when the harsh sunlight filtered in through the window.

"Time to get up?" Jared supplied.

"Ha-ha," Caleb said dryly. "Hilarious. Really, what time is it?"

"Around seven-thirty." Jared hesitated. "The station just called."

"They _did_?"

That made him nervous. Why would they want anything else to do with him if they were trying to rule him out as a suspect?

"Yeah. They have some more questions for you."

Caleb was certain that he was not ready to find out whatever the police wanted to question him about next. It had been enough to go through it the previous night. Hesitantly rising from his bed in the guest bedroom, he dug through the small pile of clothes Jared had haphazardly thrown into a corner for him. In a way, he was grateful that his brother was still treating him the same. It would have been strange if he hadn't. Throwing on jeans and a t-shirt, he let that suffice, and made his way out to the kitchen.

The small TV in the kitchen was on, but the volume was low. Glancing at the grainy images on the low resolution set, he saw his worst nightmare from the night before. The story of Katie's murder was prime time television, and had already graced the cover of the morning newspaper. Turning up the volume once his hand absently found the remote, he listened to the reporters describe the chaotic (and brutal) scene. They were simply doing their job, but it unnerved Caleb that they were talking so flippantly about his dead wife. It seemed they should have been showing more emotion than what they were.

"Do you really want to be watching this stuff?" Jared asked, breaking Caleb from his thoughts. He hadn't even been aware of his entrance. "Or reading about it?" His eyes shifted to the newspaper.

"Probably not."

"We should get going."

"We should," Caleb agreed.

Even though he dreaded it with ever fiber in his being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What really fascinates me about Caleb and later Jim Murphy, is that these are characters that we only got brief glimpses of in the show from either seeing them once or twice, or hearing about them. I like working with characters I can flesh out and add some depth to. Characters that didn't get the attention that they perhaps deserved.


	3. Chapter 3

The grieving man had no clue what to make of the fact that the police wanted to question him yet again, less than twenty-four hours after they had initially had him come down to the station for questioning. It still did not seem possible that he had woken up in his own bedroom the previous morning, and now he was finding himself waking up in the strange familiar place of his brother's house. The bedroom was not his own, but it was comfortable enough. Now he had to contend with more questions from the investigators. They were only doing their job, he reasoned, trying to let that truth sink into his mind, and not the alternatives.

Breakfast was a light fare that consisted of yogurt Caleb had the suspicion was expired, and some toast that he did not bother to butter. Food was the last thing he felt like consuming when his heart and mind were both running through a list of the worst case scenarios that could happen when he went back to talk to the two investigators. They had seemed friendly enough, and had wanted to get to the heart of what happened to his wife. So did he. But he was not sure what to think of them wanting to interview him again. They should be moving on to other suspects, getting security footage from the cameras, compiling a list of witnesses that could verify his alibi.

Choking down his coffee that was too bitter for his liking, he got up from his place at the table, and got some creamer from the fridge. Watching the contents of the mug swirl until it was a light brown, he inhaled a grateful gulp. His brother had left him briefly to get dressed in the other room. Caleb took that time to reach for the remote control, and switch back on the news. His brother had not approved of him watching the continuing coverage of his wife's death, and while Caleb agreed, he also needed to know what was being communicated. To his disappointment, he did not see what he wanted to see. Putting the remote down, he tried to ignore the cloud over his heart that something was not right. That there was more to her death than met the eye. How could someone have broken into their home and killed her and their baby? Especially when the neighborhood was always so safe.

Thinking over these questions would never provide him with the peace he needed. Especially the peace he needed to get through the day. Standing up, his legs feeling like lead, he dumped his cup in the sink and moved around to get ready for the day. In the absentmindedness that had occupied his thought process, he heard the phone ringing somewhere in the family room. Before he could move to pick it up, Jared stepped around him to get it. His eyes met his brother's for a second, and Caleb could see the concern in them for him. Jared had never seen him in this fog before, and Caleb, who was experiencing it, had never felt something like this, either.

He had experienced death before-when his parents and grandparents died-but those deaths were to be expected. His parents and grandparents lived a long, full life that culminated in their deaths from natural causes. Their life was a celebration, and their funerals had carried the same spirit with them. The dilemma that Caleb was going through, was trying to figure out how he could celebrate Katie's life when it had ended in such a cruel way. When it had ended before her time, and when she was about to become a mother.

"Who was that?" Caleb inquired, once Jared hung the phone up.

"Aunt Sylvia," Jared replied, shaking his head. "The woman hasn't even spoken to us in, what, ten years?"

"Well, she still has her connections to this place. Probably one of her spies informed her of her nephew's tragedy."

"Yeah, well, I have a problem with her coming around when it suits her. When we needed her for things over the years."

It was true: When their parents died, Caleb could remember the devastation that had settled in his soul as he and his brother worked through the funerals for them. They had died only hours apart, and had left a house full of prized family possessions that the two brothers were at a loss as to how to deal with. They did not feel like packing things away like they meant nothing, but had to find somewhere to store them when their aunt found an excuse not to help them.

"Well, anyway," Caleb said, trying to divert the topic to a more pressing issue. "We should-" he took a deep breath, shoving the sudden nervous feeling he got to the side. "-We should get going."

"Yeah," Jared clapped his hand on his shoulder. "Let's get this thing over with, huh?" As they walked through the kitchen and out through the garage door that was past the kitchen, Jared took a critical look at his brother. "Did you eat anything?" His eyes narrowed as though he honestly doubted it.

"Yes, Mom," Caleb teased. It felt good to tease; if not slightly abnormal after what had taken place.

He wanted to do something that was not expelling the endless amount of tears that had taken him captive. Even though he wanted to do something for himself, his brother would not hear of it. Shaking his head when Jared stepped ahead of him to reach the driver's side door, he thought about protesting, but knew it would likely not do much good. Sliding into the front seat, he instantly changed the station from the metal crap his brother thought was good, and to a classic rock one. Of all the differences that he and his brother had, the most upsetting was their drastic taste in music.

Jared pursed his lips while he pulled out of the garage, drove down the neighborhood, and out into the street. It was obvious he wanted to say something, but was debating whether or not to. Caleb almost wished he would. It would feel better than sitting in the silence while they both thought about what to say to the other. The death of Katie had rendered normal speech impossible, and even awkward. Neither of them knowing how to break the silence. Clearing his throat, Caleb looked at the trash that was collected on the floor of the car. His brother never cared about what his car looked like.

"I have one question," Jared said, stopping at a light. "Why in the world do you listen to _rock_?"

"Why in the world do you listen to _metal_?" Caleb retorted with a smirk. "It seriously makes my ears want to bleed."

"Well, I'm sorry, but rock music had it's day, and that day has gone."

Caleb shook his head, watching the houses and businesses flash by him. "Sounds like you're talking about that metal crap." This bantering felt good. It felt normal in a way that Caleb was starting to think he would never feel again. The drive was peaceful, with the roads nearly devoid of traffic due to the early hour.

"Do you know that Dad used to like rock?" Jared spoke quietly, restrained. Their father's death had clearly still impacted him years after the fact.

"Bon Jovi was his jam." Caleb used to love sitting in his father's squad car, and blasting their favorite band. It was those early years that had cemented their bond.

Jared nodded slowly. "Yeah. I found an album in his closet when we were cleaning it out."

That was definitely a time that Caleb did not want to remember. A time when he questioned whether or not his brother would be able to recover from the trauma of their parent's deaths. Looking through the treasure trove in their parent's room, had yielded answers about their parents that they had no idea existed. Looking down at his knee, he noticed it jiggling nervously. As much as he tried to let go of the fear he was feeling about the police wanting to question him, he could not escape the nerves.

He tried to imagine why the police wanted to question him again, and failed. With them, no amount of guesswork would likely come close to the real answer. It could be nothing, which he hoped, or it could be something bad. Trying to divert his thoughts from that, he looked out the window and saw little kids walking along the path to the school-bus. Weary parents were walking behind them, carrying their backpacks. Thinking about something else, helped, but it did not erase the question as to why they wanted to see him so early in the morning.

"The news was talking about Katie," Caleb said, shaking his head, raising his fingers to pinch the tears from his eyes before they could come. "They were talking about her like she was nothing. Like she wasn't a real person. She's just the 'murder victim'". It had disturbed him greatly to turn on the news, and read the paper that detailed what little the police gave them.

Jared scoffed, shaking his head. "I told you not to look at that stuff."

"Too late."

"Man, they didn't know her. They didn't know anything about her. You can't let that get to you."

Caleb supposed Jared was right. These reporters were following a story, and doing what they were told. It was not their job to get personal and let feelings get in the way. That was one of the reasons Caleb knew he would be no good in a reporting position: He was far too emotional to get the job done right. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and that's why he was finding all of this so impossible to handle.

"It's still upsetting," he mumbled.

"I get it." Jared paused. "This might be a stupid question, but are you okay?"

Caleb shook his head. "No." He was far from the territory of 'okay.' In fact, he seriously wondered if he would ever be okay again.

"I understand that, dude."

Caleb sucked in a breath, trying to formulate the words that his mind was dredging up. "It's not like she died because of an illness, or old age. She died because someone...someone _killed_ her."

"She was handed a death sentence." Jared's eyes were determinedly focused on the road, but Caleb could see the pain in them.

"I talked to her parents late last night."

"What did they say?"

Caleb didn't answer at first-didn't know what to say. "They're...they're devastated. Her mom, she's been looking forward to assuming the grandmother role, and now..."

That had been a conversation Caleb would have given anything to avoid: Talking to his wife's parents, and trying his hardest to provide comfort to them. It had been impossible to hear the pain and heartache in her mother's voice, and then having to talk to her father when her mother was unable to. He had lost his wife, but her parents had lost their daughter. The people who had known her the longest and most intimately, were grieving for the loss.

Leaning his head back, he took a deep breath. The police station was only a street away from them. Looking out at the street, the sun momentarily blinding him, his interest was piqued when he noticed two men walking into the county morgue. The one looked to be a pastor, and his companion looked like some of the guys Caleb worked with at his construction company. For some odd reason, he had the suspicion they were not there to visit a friend of theirs who died.

"Who do you think those guys are?" Jared mused, following what Caleb was looking at.

"No idea. I just don't think they're there to visit a friend."

Jared's eyebrows knitted together in bewilderment. "Then who do you think they're there for?"

Caleb shrugged one shoulder, smacking his lips together to ward off the dryness in them. "No clue."

* * *

Caleb tried not to let panic completely override his senses when Jared pulled into the parking lot of the downtown police station. Instead, he tried to steel himself for whatever fresh hell awaited him inside the doors of that place. He respected the officers for what they did to protect the community, but he was beginning to wonder if the investigators on the team, were starting to place their suspicions on the wrong person. It had happened before, he supposed. There were plenty of people who had been wrongfully convicted of a crime.

Unbuckling his belt, he took another sip of the coffee he had thought to bring with him. The caffeine proved to provide him with enough of a boost to get out of the car and face the coldness that whipped his face. Across the parking lot, he could see a reporter's van parked closer to the entrance. No doubt, they were there to get a statement about the death of Katie Rivers. Hoping against hope he would not have to face their intrusive questions, he prepared himself to face whatever was on the inside of the swinging doors.

"Do you want some moral support?" Jared asked, leaning across the console.

"I'm good." Moral support would have been nice, but Caleb seriously doubted he would be allowed inside.

"I'll just go around the corner for a bite," Jared said, putting the car in drive. "See you in a few?"

"You bet."

Walking across the parking lot, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, and tried to swallow the lump that was in the back of his throat. It did not help him that he was having to face these questions all over again. They were doing their job, but he hoped they were not going for the wrong person. Inside, the station was cool, but there was an air of humidity from the bodies that were all pressed together in the tight space. Walking up to the front desk, he was greeted by the friendly woman manning the phones. Giving his information, he was directed to wait over by the hard chairs that he had sat in during his interrogation.

Looking at the rack of magazines, he thumbed through the collection of outdated sports magazines. It gave his mind a brief pause to think about anything else than the hell he was going through. However, even the pictures of flashy cars and updates on the sports teams, did not give him the escape he hoped it would. Putting it aside when it was clear it was hopeless, he leaned foreword, putting his head in his hands, and trying to breathe through the sudden onslaught of grief that was hitting him. At this early hour in the morning, Katie would have been making breakfast and putting finishing touches on their home. He would usually go to work around then, and spend the rest of the day checking up on her.

Lifting his head when the nausea subsided and he heard the back door opening, he was greeted by the same investigators he had spoken with the night before. They were back, and they wore faces of sympathy that Caleb tried his best to focus on. Any amount of sympathy or kindness was something he needed to get him through. Standing up, he shook their hands, and silently walked where they directed him. It soon became clear they were leading him down the same, barren hallway that he had been led to before.

Turning into the room they pointed him into, it looked identical to the one he had been held in the night before. The room was set at a comfortable temperature, but all Caleb could feel was the pounding warmth that was settling in his heart and soul. Taking a seat in the hard metal chair that was pulled up in front of the table, he clasped his hands in front of him and waited for the questions that would be presented to him.

"We appreciate you meeting with us," Allen said, setting three cups of coffee down on the table. "I know it's inconvenient, and you have a lot on your plate."

"That's an understatement," Caleb said, with a laugh, taking the coffee that was pushed toward him. "What is this about?"

"We had some follow-up questions," Reynolds explained. "It's routine stuff. Just fact-checking."

And making sure his statements lined up with what he said last night, and also checking him against the witness statements they had probably gotten in the hours since he had spoken with them. The coffee was good, and gave him a distraction to focus on other than the prying eyes of the investigators. Looking down at the table, he noticed his hands were trembling.

"Like what kind of questions?"

The answer was provided to him when Allen pulled a large manila folder from his stuff on the floor. Instantly understanding that it had something to do with the investigation, he leaned foreword. Any chance to find whoever had killed his wife, was worth the hours spent being interrogated. Sure enough, Allen produced a few pages of paper that looked to be the  beginnings of their investigative reporting. Another object was sealed tightly in an evidence bag and marked. Looking at it closely, he noticed a large kitchen knife.

"We recovered this knife at the scene last night. It was found next to Katie's body, you see. Our team ran it through our DNA system to get an accurate result."

"And?" Caleb choked, surprised at how emotional he was becoming so quickly. Forcibly clearing his throat, he was relieved when he regained composure. "Did it tell you anything about who might have-" he could not say the words out loud. It was like being stabbed in the gut repeatedly.

"Well," Reynolds said, positioning the bag so Caleb could see it better. "We tested it for DNA, but we also tested it for the blood that was found on the handle. See right there?" The handle of the knife had a few splatters of a dark red substance that Caleb knew was blood.

"We're testing the blood evidence on the knife," Allen said, perhaps catching the horror-struck look on Caleb's face. "And the only DNA that was found on the knife, were your fingerprints and hers."

That answer momentarily stunned Caleb, but he quickly recovered from the shock of their statement, when he remembered how commonly they used it in the kitchen to cook things. He could remember Katie using that same knife the day she died. "That's our knife. I mean, we use that thing _a lot_." If he hadn't remembered that fact, he might have been tempted to completely lose his composure.

"DNA can last on a knife for a few days, give or take," Reynolds said. "When did you last lose it?"

"She used it the day all this happened." He had a hard time using the word "killed." It seemed it did not belong in the same sentence category as his wife.

"Well, that might explain the finger prints," Allen said, trying his hardest to give him the benefit of the doubt. "We sent the blood down to the lab for additional testing."

"Should I need an attorney for any of this?" Caleb was beginning to see that this investigation had the makings of turning into something ugly for him.

The last thing he felt like doing was obtaining representation. Especially when he knew how it looked to police who were investigating someone for murder. It would make things worse, but he also could not see another option if the police were starting to head in a direction that was vomit-inducing. The investigators exchanged glances with each other, before Reynolds shrugged. "Only if you think it's necessary." His tone made it clear that the ball was in Caleb's court.

Caleb hated the well of desperation that was starting to swell inside of him at the implications in the investigator's tone. It was like he was challenging him to hire an attorney and see how that boded for him. Glancing at the clock, he saw that he had been there for nearly an hour already. It seemed like he had been there much longer than that, and the questioning showed no signs of letting up. Pinching the bridge between his nose and eyes, he focused on simply breathing.

"I have no idea what to think," Caleb said honestly. "I assume you talked to the employees at my store?"

"We did," Allen said. "And they verified that you were there until right before the murder took place."

The nausea that Caleb felt was immediate. The police were no longer trying to beat around the bush, and make him feel comfortable. It was now obvious that they were focusing on him as a prime suspect in the death of his wife. Opening and closing his mouth several times, he tried to think of something to say that would make them see how ridiculous it was that they were thinking this.

"I was at work until the time I told you-"

"They said you stepped out-" Allen started to say.

"For a minute!" Caleb retorted, raising his voice despite his best efforts to control it. "Not long enough for me to to think what you think I did."

"It could have been long enough to call someone," Reynolds pointed out.

"I didn't call anyone!"

It was devastating to him that someone in a position of authority—someone who held the power of making his life a living hell—as if it wasn't already, of arresting him and charging him with something that he had had no part in. It was laughable to think that someone could assume he had murdered his wife. He would have laughed if the situation was not so dire.

"A neighbor," Allen said, leaning in close to Caleb, enough so that he leaned back, not liking the investigator getting so close to him, especially when he was on the verge of accusing him of murdering his wife and baby. "Heard you two arguing the day _before_ she died."

"That was a minor argument we resolved." Caleb knew it was their job to dig deeper into his story with Katie and find any cracks.

"What was it about?"

"Me working longer hours. I was fed up because she had told me that she wanted me to work longer, and then when I finally got the job, she was upset because I wasn't home enough. I got mad, but we resolved it. No issues after that," he said, doing his best not to implode.

"We still need an answer as to whether or not you will provide a blood sample for us."

"Fine."

They would get it out of him anyway, and not doing it at all would look even more suspicious than anything else. It was ridiculous, and as he rolled up his sleeve and let the nurse take the blood, he tried not to think about the hell that he was being subjected to.

"Thank you," Allen said, once the nurse had left. "We should have the results back in the morning, and then we'll give you a call."

"Can I leave?"

"Yes."

Caleb did not waste a single second before jumping out of his seat, and hurrying from the room. He could not bare to sit there any longer and be faced with the horrible implications of what they were trying to say. It was too outlandish for him to consider.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I love the supernatural part of...well...Supernatural! I love the investigative work they do for their cases. I love watching the brothers investigate and conduct their research. That's why in this verse, there's supernatural, but there's also a little detective/police work involved as well. Because, of course, these poor hunters can never do their job saving people without scrutiny.


	4. Chapter 4

Caleb could think about a hundred different reasons why the scrutiny the police were pinning on him for his wife's death was not only unfair, but also frustrating and impossible to believe. He could not understand how he could have a rock solid alibi, and somehow that was not enough for them. His employees had verified to the police that they had seen him working that night, and he had only stepped out for a minute for a break. How the police rationalized he could have traveled the ten minutes from his work to his home to kill his wife, was something he had a difficult time sorting through. He figured the police had some theory he had not thought through yet. He was raised to respect the system, and respect the way they did things, and he still did. But this was different.

Walking out of the building as soon as he was released from the latest round of questions, he walked across the half-empty parking lot, the sun beating down on his face. The warmth was a welcome distraction to the coldness that was swirling like the sea in the pit of his stomach and throughout the rest of his body. Jared was waiting for on the other end of the lot, but pulled up as soon as he saw him walking out. He had no idea what his brother would think of the police insisting on a blood sample from him, but he knew how protective they were of each other. Gratefully sliding into the front seat, he leaned his head back, and breathed as deeply as he could. It had been an exhausting morning already.

Closing his eyes, he tried to push back the mountain weight of devastation that was eclipsing his heart and soul. The police had no basis for this if they knew him. If they knew how much he and his wife had been devoted to each other through good times and bad times. Over the years, they had gone through both of those times, but had always emerged on the other side of whatever had threatened to bring them down. Now that she was gone, people who didn't even know of their history, were beginning to look at him as a suspect. Caleb had no idea what made the police think of him so intently, but he was not sure he could handle much more. His hand trembled, the one that held his wedding ring.

The day she slipped that ring on his finger had been the happiest of his life. Now it was a harsh reminder of what he lost in such a short amount of time. Not bearing the thought of ever taking it off, he absently twisted it around his finger. The cool feel of it comforted him. It made him think about the woman who had put it on him, and not the drastic change his life had taken. Looking out the window once he inhaled another breath, he saw the town he used to love go by him. It was a small area, but the people who lived in the town, knew and loved each other. It was pure bliss to live there when things were going right in his life. Now that it wasn't, he could not help but wonder what people were thinking of him. Did they believe as the police did? Did they assume he had murdered his wife?

Not sure he wanted to know the answer either way, he looked down at his arm that had a small bandage on it from the blood that had been taken. Clenching his hand into a fist, he pounded it lightly on his leg while he tried to relieve the pulsing stress that was coursing through his body. Not only did he have to worry about what they thought of him, but now he had to wait an agonizing wait for the result of the blood test to come back from the lab. Listening to them request the blood work, watching the way they looked at him so suspiciously when he wondered whether he should have representation with him, was just about the hardest thing he could think of on top of everything else.

Now that he was entering a territory that was strangely unfamiliar to him, he was beginning to think that maybe he _should_ get some legal help from someone who knew what they were talking about. Without that protection, he felt dangerously exposed to whatever might be coming next. With no legal background, he had no clue how to defend himself against the myriad of accusations being hurled his way like a rogue football. Running through all the contacts he had in his mind, he could think of no one that fit the description he wanted. His family had never had the reason to have a defense lawyer, so it wasn't as though he could go through their archives to find a resource.

"You're quiet," Jared noted, fiddling with the channel to turn on his cringe-worthy metal music.

"Just have a lot on my mind." Caleb shook his head, and switched the station to a rock classic one. "And that metal isn't helping matters."

Jared opened his mouth in mock-horror, before reaching over to deliver a punch to his shoulder. "Leave Napalm out of this. They haven't done anything to you."

"Except make my ears bleed."

Caleb enjoyed this bantering with his brother; it served to distract him from the pressing terror he had over this investigation, and the devastation over his wife's death. If he could get back into a normal mindset that did not involve lying awake in bed at all hours of the night, he thought he might have a chance at recovering from the horror of the previous night. As it was, he could feel how tired he was behind his eyes, and all over himself. No amount of coffee was able to fix the nasty headache he had.

"So, now that we've established you hate all metal except for Metallica, and Black Sabbath, what happened in the station?" He paused in his speech while he turned down a street that Caleb was not familiar with. "What did they say?"

Caleb hoped the conversation he had been enjoying with his brother, would not turn into this kind of talk. He had no clue how his brother would react to the police zeroing in on his little brother for something that he did not do. Raising a hand to wipe the tiredness from his eyes, he smacked his lips together, and tried to form a response in his mind to the endless thoughts that were swirling around in his brain.

"They...they think I did it." He laughed, and had no idea why, either. "They think I killed her." The words sounded ridiculous coming from his mouth.

"They... _what_?" Jared demanded, nearly rear-ending someone in front of him. "They think you killed her? Is that what you _honestly_ just said?"

Caleb nodded; it was disbelieving to him, too. "Please don't hit anyone. I'm not in the mood to save your sorry self this time." Rubbing his temple, he nodded. "They haven't said it, but I know that's the angle they're taking."

"How do you figure that?" Jared mouthed a silent apology to the driver in front of him, who turned to glare at him from the near accident.

Caleb shrugged, before turning his arm to face his brother. "They insisted I get a blood test. This knife they found at the scene...it has blood on the handle." Either it was someone who wanted to frame him, or the killer had been careless and had left the murder weapon at the scene.

"So they think you killed her because your blood might or might not be on the handle." Jared shook his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded like a curse word.

"Basically." It was depressing to think about how high the stakes were for him. If the blood was matched to his, he knew how incriminating it would look.

Watching his brother drive down the streets they knew so well, he could not picture the place they were going to. It was not a part of town he was familiar with. Looking at the different shops that they sped past, he wondered what it was like to be able to walk the streets and not have a care in the world. He used to be able to do that not long before, but now he knew those days were behind him. This tragedy would change him, and already had. He used to be carefree and happy, but now he was marked by fear of the unknown, and grief. The streets were clogged from the lunch hour traffic; Caleb's stomach growled. He hadn't eaten much, and he doubted he would be able to stomach it, anyway.

His brother seemed to know where they were going, but he did not. Jared was a man of many words, but it seemed he did not want his brother to know what they were doing. Having half a mind to inquire as to what they were doing, he thought better of it. He wasn't sure he could handle another curveball being thrown his way, and did not want to have to worry about something until he absolutely had to. Sucking in a breath, he glanced at the names of the businesses they were going past. They were offices: Some were doctors and therapists, and some were lawyers or attorneys. Glancing at his brother, he saw nothing but a determined tone that was set in his face.

"I know that you _never_ want to admit when you need help," Jared said, looking at his brother as though daring him to disagree. "But you need it. Now." Pulling into a parking space by the door, he turned to face Caleb. "So I took the liberty of calling around, and what are the odds, an attorney has an open spot to discuss this. I spoke with her on the phone, and she seems like she's pretty no-nonsense, which is what we need."

Caleb bowed his head, fighting the conflicted emotions battling each other for control. "Jared, I know I need help with this. I _do_. But-"

"Yeah. I know what you're thinking. You don't want the cops to think you're the cold blooded murderer, and so that's why you haven't hired an attorney yet. Well, I don't really care what they think. You're not going in this without protection. Let's just talk to her and hear her out, okay?"

Caleb nodded, knowing he would not be able to fight him on this. "Alright. Let's see what she says."

Getting out of the car against his better judgement, he let his brother lead the way into the office building. Her door was the first one on the right. Walking into the friendly and comfortable office setting, he took a seat in one of the chairs where he was directed by the friendly-enough receptionist. Looking at the empty office space, he wondered what his father would be thinking right then. His father was always protective of his family, and always defended his children. Caleb knew he would be pleased he was putting up a fight instead of going down willingly.

Jared sat beside him, his face betraying no sign of how he was really feeling, but Caleb knew. He was nervous about what the police were thinking, and that was why he went to all the trouble of getting him a meeting with this attorney. He wanted to say something to comfort him, but no words made it past his intention. He couldn't think of one thing to say to him that was true, because he was scared of what he was facing.

"You ever think about what Dad would think of all this?" Jared asked, voicing Caleb's exact thoughts.

"I was just thinking about that." Caleb could picture his dad joining him on the front-lines, ready to help his son through anything.

"He wouldn't let you go down without a fight. That's for sure."

"Yeah, I know. He didn't raise quitters."

"No, he did not."

"The fact-"

What Caleb had been about to say, was forgotten when the door leading to the back room was finally opened. Looking up to meet, who he assumed was his new attorney, he was met with a woman who immediately struck him with the same impression she had with Jared. She looked no-nonsense, even though she had hardly spoken a word to him.

"Are you Caleb?" She asked, looking at him and then at Jared. "And Jared Rivers?"

"Yes," Caleb said. "And you are?"

"I'm Dawn Michaels. Your brother contacted me about your situation." She shook his hand. "Would you like to come back?"

Caleb nodded. "I mean, I wouldn't _like_ to, but I guess I have to, right?"

Dawn shrugged, moving toward the door. "If you would like to take your chances without backup, than sure, but if you want help, than I suggest you follow me."

Caleb could not argue with the logic that was being presented to him. He gave one last look at his brother, and followed her down the hall toward her office. It was a pleasant and quiet walk through the halls. The place did not look like a place he associated with a defense attorney. It was comfortable and homey. Looking at the pictures of the children on the walls, he wondered if those were hers. Not letting himself think about the child he had lost, he swallowed the lump in his throat, and stopped outside the door she indicated. Walking into her office, he sat in front of her desk, and looked around.

"Are those yours?" He asked, a teasing smile coming across his face. Her office held many personal mementos, and even some pictures of dogs and cats. Not the children he initially assumed might be hers.

Dawn rolled her eyes, surprising Caleb. "Don't even ask. I sort of..." she gestured with her hands and shrugged. "Inherited them from my family. We're pretty gaga over our animals."

"I can see that." This felt okay; it felt nice to have a conversation with someone who was not his brother, or someone from the police.

Dawn was busy looking through a large folder that clearly held the more important details of his case. She was leafing through the most important notes, and taking some of her own. As she worked, he could see the intense concentration that seemed to be on her face as she moved. This felt good; being able to hand some of the pressure over to someone else.

"So, Caleb, I spoke with your brother on the phone, as you know. He mentioned that you were feeling a little...uneasy about obtaining representation." Dawn's face was still stuck in that same look that Caleb figured was the norm, but it was also softening. "Can you explain that to me?"

Caleb nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I just...I don't want the police to have one more reason to place the blame on me."

"You think that by getting help, it makes your case look worse?"

"Basically. Yes."

Dawn nodded, swallowing thickly. "I can't deny that you have a valid point. On the other hand, you're runny through hot lava if you try to handle this on your own. You do not have the experience to handle an investigation like this, and that is why it's always wise to get an attorney."

That's what Caleb figured, and why he didn't object as harshly as he would have otherwise. "So, what do you think about it?"

"I think we have a case. I think I can help you. But, Caleb?" Dawn shook her head. "You cannot talk to the police without me. If they call you and want to chat, you call me first, and I'll meet you there. They cannot question you without an attorney present, if you do not wish for that to happen."

"Okay, sounds like we have a plan."

* * *

 

Trying to ignore the sickening roll of nausea that assaulted his senses as he walked through the immaculate reception area to wait with Katie's mother while the employee got their appointment fitted in, he looked around at all the other people who were undoubtedly there for the same reason.

It was useless to attempt control over his fragmented emotions so he didn't, as he tried to be discreet with how often he allowed the tears to roll down his face. No one there would judge him for that, but he hated that he even had to feel this way at _all_ , that someone had taken her life and destroyed it in a single second.

"Katie's father is going to meet us later," her mother said, as she finally made conversation. They had both been silent, wrapped up in their own thoughts about the entire, ugly process.

"Okay," he said.

"Thank you for meeting me here and helping me with this."

"It's not a problem."

"I know Katie would have wanted you involved in all of this, and I respect that."

Her mother had never been close with him for a reason he could never pinpoint, but ever since her death, the distance that had been felt between them, had only seemed to grow that much larger and longer.

"I would never not be involved," he answered honestly.

"You look tired," she remarked, as she closely examined Caleb's insomnia-ridden features.

"I haven't slept much. The police keep calling me and wanting me to go back in for interviews."

"What for?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said, not wanting to get into it with her while they were waiting for their appointment. "They said something about wanting to take blood from me to match it up with—with the weapon."

"Well," her mother said, squaring her shoulders determinedly. "We know in this family that you had _nothing_ to do with her death whatsoever."

"That means a lot," he said sincerely.

It certainly did—If the victim's own _parents_ were on his side, it might give the police a reason to look elsewhere instead of focusing all their energy on creating a phony case against him, one that didn't even _exist._

When they were finally called back to examine the different caskets that they could select for her viewing and burial, it was a hard thing for Caleb to reconcile in his brain, that he was actually being required to find a casket that would be suitable for his wife.

He and Katie had never talked about those things when they had been married—they were both young people and just starting out with their lives. He assumed, naturally, that they would have an entire lifetime to make those gruesome decisions about themselves, but certainly not at the _peak_ of their lives and when they were both so happy.

"This is the selection that we have," the attendant said, standing back awkwardly.

"Thank you," her mother said.

"When is the viewing?"

"In two days."

"Ah, well, it's a good a time as any to pick one-"

"Do you have somewhere else you need to be?" Caleb interjected, turning to face the overly perky man, who's attitude _certainly_ didn't fit the job description, and was only irritating him to no end.

"I'm sorry, yes. Please let me know when you have found something."

"We will," her mother said, taking it upon herself to smile apologetically at him for her son-in-law's rude behavior. "Caleb, what was that about?"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but I can't stand being in this room, looking at the box that I'm expected to bury my wife and child in."

It was too soon for all of this—she had barely been dead _two days_ and they were already picking out the fine details for her funeral service.

"I know. I like this one," she said after a minute of quiet searching.

It was a simple oak casket. Caleb couldn't argue against it, and didn't want to. Anything that got the job done faster was good for him.

"Me, too."

"You want me to tell the man that we want this one?"

"Yes."

He would have said anything if it had meant that they would be able to leave that horrible place. It was all too much, and he was fully realizing that by the sick way that his head spun as he watched his mother-in-law sign the final sale papers, sealing the casket in their name, and giving Katie her final resting place.

* * *

 

Next on the agenda was going to the coroners office to review her autopsy report that would conclude how she had died, and in the manner in which she had passed. Then the family, her family, would be allowed custody of her body for burial later that week.

Caleb had been lucky to have not spent a lot of time inside coroner's offices before this. When his parents both died, the autopsy hadn't been necessary because they had both struggled with cancer in their later years, and other natural causes that had contributed to their deaths.

Walking inside the freezing cold reception area, he watched numbly as Katie's mother signed them in, before being told to wait for the medical examiner to come out and retrieve them. It was wrong, it all was. It couldn't be happening that they were there to find out how she had died, and what had happened in her final moments, and to be honest, Caleb wasn't even sure he wanted to hear it.

When the portly man finally came out and got them, he tried to swallow back the roll of bile that was collecting in the back of his throat as he and Katie's mother followed him back down a series of sterile, white hallways until they reached the correct office.

"I'm Dr. Johnson, I performed the autopsy on your daughter, and your wife," he said, addressing both of them in one swoop.

"Do you know the cause of death?" Her mother asked, clearly trying to hurry the man along as best she could, and Caleb couldn't blame her. "I just don't want any unnecessary details," she explained.

"Of course," the man said, giving her a nod of respect. "We concluded that based on the marks on her body, and other contributing factors that Katie died from multiple, penetrating stab wounds. Some of the wounds to her abdomen and throat, would be fatal within seconds."

"So," Caleb said, choking on the words as he tried to think through the knowledge of what she had gone through, and it was absolutely horrifying. "She didn't suffer?"

"Not in my opinion. It was almost like the attacker wanted a victim, but didn't really care how he got it. The wounds were mostly all fatal, and death would have occurred fairly soon."

"What about her baby?" Katie's mom asked.

"The fetus-"

"Baby," Caleb corrected him quietly.

"I'm sorry. The baby was right in the way of the knife wounds to her abdomen. He or she would not have survived to be full term, and death happened almost instantly since they're so delicate in the early stages of pregnancy."

Caleb nodded. "Thank you."

After that, they had to sign some more papers to get custody of her body, and then they were finally able to leave. It was a welcome relief to Caleb, who was just glad to get the entire day over with as he returned to his brother's home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dawn was an attorney that actually had a big role in the Missing 'verse because I love her character so much. She was in the earlier version of this story, as well, but I decided to introduce her earlier because it did not make sense for Caleb to go through this kind of police scrutiny without backup.


	5. Chapter 5

The next few days passed in a blur of chaos, pain, and confusion for Caleb as he prepared himself for the impossible task of getting ready for his wife's visitation, and then her funeral, which would be immediately following the visitation. He did not think he would be emotionally strong enough to stand with her parents and family, and greet well-meaning mourners. Most of those people had probably never even met Katie before, but wanted to offer their condolences. He understood that, but it did not make standing and shaking their hands, any better. A part of him knew that he needed to adjust his attitude, but that was hard when there was so much else happening around him. He had not heard anything from the police regarding the blood test they took, and that could only mean good news. He had spoken with Dawn, his new attorney, and she had not heard anything, either.

With that in mind, he tried to busy himself with the things that needed to be done for the visitation and funeral. Her mother, who he suspected, was completely in over her head like he was, suggested that he take on the task of sorting through family pictures and videos of Katie to show at the visitation and funeral. It was a task that Caleb did not want the responsibility of, but took seriously, all the same. He wanted people to get an accurate view of his wife, and not the 'murdered woman' that the press had branded her as. Even thinking about the coverage was enough to make him taste bile in his throat. So far, the media had not picked up the fact that he was a suspect in his wife's death, and he was grateful. He could only imagine the field day that would come from that unwanted press intrusion.

Washing a hand down his face, he gripped a mug of coffee in one hand, and a small shoe box in the other one. Leaning down on the carpeted floor in the guest room he had been taking over at his brother's, he prepped himself to start the arduous process of sorting through the photographs and videos that made up Katie's life. As though her life could be summed up in a series of well-chosen photographs and videos. The whole ordeal was overwhelming to him, and he suddenly understood why her mother had been so hesitant to take that part. Opening the box after taking a long, comforting sip of the caffeine, he stared at the pictures that came from another life that wasn't so hard.

Pictures of Katie in a sparkling dress at her prom. She was smiling; her arm wrapped around the shoulders of her friend, and a guy who he assumed was her date. Putting that one aside, he came to the next one, which showed her at her high-school graduation. Her warm face was positively aglow with euphoria at blowing that place, as she recalled to him. She was standing next to her parents, holding her diploma in her hand, allowing the photographs and attention, though she despised that kind of attention being thrust on her. The next one was the one that nearly undid him where he sat. It was her wedding photo, the one day where she wanted the attention. The day where she was married the love of her life.

It was hard to place himself in that picture, and then remind himself that it was a lifetime ago. The beaming couple were no more. The vows they exchanged, the ones Caleb took seriously, had been as important to him as just about anything, and now they were null and void. He hadn't been there to protect her, he hadn't been able to be there for her through sickness and in health. He still loved her, boy did he ever love her, but he could not help feeling disgusted with himself that he was not there when she needed him the most. When some monster broke into their home, and murdered her and their unborn child.

The happy couple dancing at their reception, first to a slow song, and then to a faster one, was now gone. Muffling a sob behind his hand, he decided to use the photographs of her graduation and their wedding. It was those pictures that accurately depicted Katie how he remembered her: Fun, vibrant, and full of life. A life that had been taken way too soon. It was hard to believe that their wedding had been almost four years ago, and so much had happened. They had gone through their share of problems, but their love and willingness to work through those issues, had never torn them apart as a result.

It had been almost three days since Katie had been found murdered in her home. Three days that had irrevocably changed the course of Caleb's life forever. Three days where he had to go through the process of being cleared of committing her murder. It did not seem real that he was in this position, and for the first time, he was grateful that Jared had made him go through with getting representation. He was nowhere near prepared to handle the onslaught of questions on his own. That was what Dawn had told him when they first met, and he believed her.

His muscles tensing when he heard the garage door open, he relaxed slightly when he saw Jared's hulking frame walk across the kitchen, and then toward the living room to sit down and watch the game that was on. It was bizarre to Caleb that so much could change since a murder like this. No longer did he live without much fear. Now, even the slightest noise, was enough to set him off unless he knew where it came from. Focusing back on his project once he was sure there was no danger, he looked through the labeled cassette tapes. There were videos for her wedding, graduation, and some family videos. Deciding on the family videos and wedding one, he gathered all that he had collected into a smaller box.

Leaning back against the sturdy frame of the  bed, he tried to catch his breath and reclaim his shattered emotions. It was not the easiest thing in the world. His soul felt like it had been ripped from his body, and tossed to the sharks. Every second of the day was a temptation to cry, and resisting that effort when he felt as though he had expelled every tear there was left to cry in his body. His legs felt like lead, almost like they would give out on him at any second. And his heart had been broken by the events of the last few days. Closing his eyes, he focused on the complex art of breathing. He pushed back the torrent of pain he was in, and tried his best to be strong for his wife.

"Hey," Jared said, walking in from the living room. Caleb had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard his approach. "What are you doing?" He took a look at the collection of things his brother had been sorting through.

"Her mother-" Caleb paused, fighting the wave of emotion that was coming over him. Sometimes it hit him harder, and this was one of those times. "She put me in charge of organizing the photos and videos that we're going to show at the visitation."

"How's...how's it going so far?" Jared was completely out of his league when it came to emotions, and handling them. Whereas Caleb wore his heart on his sleeve, his brother was the polar opposite of that.

Caleb shrugged, not knowing what the answer was when it came to that. He felt good about the selection he made, but he was also not sure that it matched up to what her mother would want. Eyeing the fast food bag that Jared had grasped in his hand, he saw that it came from one of his favorite places. "That for me?"

"In your dreams," Jared replied with a scoff.

"Rude."

"Listen," Jared said, changing the topic. "I just talked to Dawn. She called right when I walked in."

"What did she say?" Caleb tensed, knowing this had to be nothing good.

"The police have the results of the blood test."

* * *

 

 

It was something that Caleb had both anticipated and dreaded with equal measure: finding out the results of the blood work that would either set him free from the the police's theory, or confirm his worst nightmare, that somehow his blood had been found on the handle of the knife. As he and Jared drove down to the police station, he tried to brace himself for this going the wrong way.

It didn't make _sense_ —and that was what was most infuriating to him as he and Jared once again made the long drive back downtown to the precinct to find out the status of the investigation, and if it would be focused _away_ from him at that juncture, or have more of the same continue.

Trying to ignore the panic he felt was absolutely _pointless_ , while he tried everything he could think of to distract himself from walking back into that claustrophobic room and face more of the same hell that he had already been subjected to.

Absently running a hand across his mouth, trying to do something physical to distract himself from the growing anxiety that he felt, he looked out over the town that he used to love, and couldn't find that same beauty that he had once come to associate with it. The town had been where he had grown up, where he had met Katie, but now there was a darkness associated with it. An ugliness that he could not escape from.

So many things had happened in that town he would have gladly erased from his mind if he could—the most urgent and most pressing had been the murder of his wife and baby. It was definitely hard to find any peace or tranquility anymore.

If the worst possible thing happened and the police found a new reason to cast an even _brighter_ spotlight on him, he had no idea what he would do with that horrifying knowledge. What could he say to someone who was doing their job? Even though he _knew_ his version of events was the right one, that did not stop the police from doing their job and investigating it.

When his brother made a sharp turn onto the section of road that led directly to the police station, Caleb sighed as he tried to brace himself for whatever crap was going to happen. One comforting thought was that he would have Dawn there to back him up.

"You doing okay?" Jared asked, positioning one eye on the road and the other on his little brother.

"Depends."

"What do you mean?" he asked, arching an eyebrow in question.

"It depends on if they let me go after this is over, or if they keep finding new reasons to pin something on me that I had nothing to do with."

For nearly his entire life, he had been raised with the firm belief that the police were his friends, that they only wanted to help and protect them from crime, and while he still partially believed that, it was hard to feel any warmth or love toward them when they were targeting him.

"The blood test should rule everything out," Jared replied confidently, shaking his head in incredulity at what his baby brother was being put through.

"And if it _doesn_ 't?" Caleb asked, raising a pointed eyebrow in question. "Either they let me go for lack of evidence, or they keep searching for something that connects me to the crime."

"And Katie's _real_ killer goes free," Jared surmised, not able to disguise the disgust that colored his tone.

Jared had been the best man at his wedding, and had gotten along exceptionally well with Katie, who had been raised as an only child, and so had seen Jared as more of a brother that she had never had. It was just as devastating for Jared (especially when he saw how much pain his younger brother was in), as it was for Caleb.

"Exactly," Caleb said, shaking his head. "I know it happens. Dad talked about it to me once, but I just can't imagine it happening to me."

"They think they have their guy, and they won't let you go for anything until they have another poor fool to pin everything on."

"I know."

Swallowing back the roll of bile that had collected in the back of his throat when Jared finally pulled into the parking lot of the police station, Caleb paused in his actions before taking off his belt and stepping out into the warm, afternoon air.

Even though he would have done anything if it meant not going inside and finding out the results, delaying the inevitable wouldn't get him far, and would only be that much harder later on when he finally had to face the music.

"Do you want me to go in?" Jared called, leaning across the console to address him.

"No, thanks. Just wait here, I guess, and I'll be out when I can."

Jared hesitated, and Caleb knew he was debating whether or not to listen to him. "Alright, just let me know."

He had no idea how long it would take to talk about the results, and defend himself against whatever accusations they had for him now, but he was hoping to wrap it up as quickly as he possibly could so he could go back home and crash.

Nearly the entire morning and afternoon had been spent going over final funeral arrangements for Katie, and then to have this unwanted intrusion had been about the _last_ thing he needed to have to deal with. Walking across the bright parking lot, the hot sun beating down on his face, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, and tried to breathe around the panic he could feel. Opening the door and stepping aside for an elderly couple, he walked into the brightly lit front area, and saw Dawn sitting on one of the uncomfortable chairs by the door that led to the back.

It was a relief to have her there, and know that she had his back for better or worse. Shaking her hand, feeling too numb to speak much, he sat down beside her, and tried to think about what he would do if the worst thing happened. Dawn, perhaps sensing his intense discomfort, chose not to say much as they waited. It helped to know that he was not going in there alone, that he had someone who would go to bat for him. Feeling moisture collect behind his eyes, he wiped it away. Breathing deeply, he fought off the roll of nausea that was swirling through his system.

"What did the investigators _say_?" Caleb hoped he could be somewhat prepared for what they were about to chat with him about.

"They said they had the results of the blood test, and they needed to go over it with you." Dawn was nothing but professional, but Caleb could see a genuine side to her that he didn't know how to place.

"Did they sound...positive? Or did they sound upset?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Caleb, I don't know. They didn't sound anything but strictly professional."

Caleb nodded, trying to let that answer suffice. "What if it comes-"

He had no time to finish his question when the door was opened, and he was met with Reynolds and Allen. Standing up against his better judgement, he heeded the look of warning that Dawn passed to him. They had barely known each other a few days, and it seemed she had a pretty good idea of when her client was about to do or say something that would not be good for him. Following them down that long, dreaded hallway, he inhaled a lungful of air, and wondered what it would feel like to breathe as a man not under suspicion.

"This is your attorney, I presume?" Allen asked, nodding at Dawn. There was nothing in their faces that made it seem as though they thought anything was off by him hiring an attorney.

"Yes," Caleb said, taking a seat at the table when Reynolds directed him to. "Kinda thought it would be a good idea."

"That makes sense," Reynolds assured him. "So, as I'm sure your attorney informed you, we have the results of the blood test, and we needed to discuss it with you."

Caleb's heart painfully galloped in his ribcage. "And? What did it say?"

As if there was any doubt in his mind that the results would come up with anything _but_ negative. There was no way that his blood had been on the knife, when he hadn't even picked it up in days.

"The results," Allen said, giving him a careful look, as if to gauge his reaction. "Were inconclusive."

"Excuse me?" Caleb replied blankly.

"They tested the handle where some of the blood was found, and then they tested the blade _itself_ , and they couldn't come up with a good match."

That was surprising—and it was also relieving for Caleb—but he knew that it was far from over. The police would hammer their theory into the ground as long as there was even a question they had their killer in front of them.

"So what now?" he asked. "You want my arm to poke another needle in there?" he said, not able to keep the complete and utter _fury_ out of his voice as he shoved his arm across the table for them to see.

"Caleb," Dawn whispered, drawing his attention to her. "You need to calm down." In a much louder voice, she addressed the investigators. "Is this all? Or is there something that you need my client for? Because, as I'm sure you know, he has a funeral to prepare for."

It was too much. Losing Katie in the most tragic and unbelievable of circumstances, and then have an almost immediate police investigation thrown onto his already overwrought shoulders. He honestly wondered how much more he could take before he completely cracked under the pressure of it all. He was grateful for Dawn, that she was asking the hard questions for him.

"They're going to retest the blood that they _do_ have," Reynolds said, giving him what could only be described as an icy glare. "In the meantime, we have some other matters that we need to discuss."

"Oh, goody," Caleb said sarcastically, but almost immediately stopped himself from saying more.

"What other matters are there to discuss?" Dawn inquired.

"When our team entered the house," Allen explained, "there were no signs of forced entry. Nothing was stolen or out of place, even. From what we were able to gather, it looks like whoever went in there that night, was someone that she knew."

Caleb shook his head. "It wasn't me, if that's what you're implying."

"More than fifty percent of homicide cases involve the spouse of the deceased. If nothing was stolen, then why would a person break into the house? Just for the sole purpose of murdering someone?" Reynolds wondered skeptically.

"I have no idea," Caleb said, "but I was at work when this happened."

"Did you," Allen demanded, slamming his hand onto the table top. "Call someone and have them go and murder your wife!"

"This is not an appropriate topic to discuss right now!" Dawn interjected, and for the first time, Caleb could see a real fire to her that he respected immensely.

"Your client should have no problem answering this," Reynolds said, giving Caleb a look as though he dared him to.

"I didn't do anything to her!"

"Did you do it yourself, then?"

Caleb shook his head incredulously. They had _actually_ crossed that invisible line, and had just accused him of murdering his wife. It was devastating that they would think he was capable of doing something like that, when he was the last person who would ever even _think_ to do something that horrible, even in a bind or out of anger.

"You cannot accuse my client of murder without proof."

"How," Caleb said, having to stop himself as he raised a shaking hand to wipe his tears. "How could you even _say_ something like that to me right now?"

"Is it the truth?"

"No. I am on the verge of a complete breakdown. I haven't had any sleep in the last two or three days, and in the morning, I have to get up and go to her visitation, and then the next day, I have to _somehow_ summon up enough courage to go to her funeral."

"I'm very sorry about all that," Allen said flippantly, "but we need some answers."

"And I'm giving you everything I know! I told you I was working, the employees told you that, and then _somehow_ you put together the fact that I went outside for a _second_ , and used that to spin some _ridiculous_ theory about how I could have called someone."

"Is that what happened?" Reynolds demanded.

"No!"

"This questioning needs to stop," Dawn said. "Either you're going to arrest him now for this murder, or you are going to stop accusing him of this."

"What happens," Allen said, ignoring Dawn, and taking a different approach. "If the blood work comes back positive?"

"Then it's just another area of this investigation that isn't true," Caleb said honestly. "If all you're going to do is sit here and accuse me of something I had no part in, I need to leave right now."

Never before had he felt so angry in his entire life. These people had no idea what it felt like to be in his shoes, to experience the kind of pain and loss that he was going through, and then for them to accuse him of something so awful, was like a punch in the gut that he didn't need.

"We also need to discuss the autopsy report that the medical examiner's office completed today."

"I already went through that-"

"We need to discuss the _specifics_ of what it said," Allen interjected, fixing steel eyes on the man sitting across from him.

Caleb shook his head, raising his hand to wipe more tears from his eyes. He had been lucky to avoid hearing a play by play of how she had died when he and her mother had gone to get custody of her body, but it seemed that he had no choice but to hear it.

"I don't want to hear this," Caleb said. "I _know_ how she died, and I can't-"

"How did she die?" Allen interjected, the implication clear in the words that he spoke to him.

"That's not what I _meant_!"

"In the report, it said that she had several stab wounds to her abdomen that were caused by a serrated kitchen knife, about three to four inches in length. That is _exactly_ what we found when our team scanned the scene."

"Please, don't make me listen to this-"

"And then it said that there had been no signs of a struggle, indicating that it was either a person that she knew, or the attacker knocked her out before killing her. No signs of a break-in, no personal property stolen."

"I told you what happened!"

"And we need more than that!" Reynolds argued. "There were also marks on her hands, indicating that she was scratched by someone. Can we see your hands right now?"

Caleb knew why they were requesting he show his hands—so they could compare the marks that had been on Katie's, and see if he had anything to match it, anything that would link him to the struggle she had put up for her life.

It was gut-wrenching to hear them speak so flippantly about her, as if she was a pawn in what they were trying to pin on him. Sighing deeply, he put his hands flat against the table for them to inspect.

Not to his surprise, there were zero marks on his hand, but he doubted they would feel the same way about it, as they had a photographer come in to mark it as evidence.

"You saw my hands," Caleb said, "there isn't _anything_ on them."

"Well," Allen said, "we still need answers, and we aren't going to stop until we get them."

"They aren't going to come from me," Caleb said, beginning to stand up. "That's a promise, too."

* * *

His entire body was shaking as he walked out of the conference room and back out into the main area from which he had come. It had been one thing to be accused of the crime, but for them to make him listen as they recited her autopsy word for word, had nearly undone him right there.

"Did you hear about those two nut jobs?" one officer who was unrelated to the current investigation said, as he drank a cup of coffee with his partner.

"Yeah. Those two idiots who were posing as some of _our_ guys?"

"We got a trace on their car in case they're still in the area, but we caught them poking around looking at Katie River's autopsy reports, even caught 'em in the morgue a few days ago."

The same people who he had seen with his brother the day before. Why were they snooping around his wife's body? And why were they looking through her autopsy reports? Instant range filled Caleb's heart, but also wonder as to who these thought they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really the beginning of when things start to become unfortunately serious for Caleb. The positive blood test is not something that can be easily refuted. Even with someone as experienced and capable as Dawn. The police are doing their job, plain and simple, and it's not their job to have sympathy with a person who may or may not be guilty of this double murder.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning of Katie's visitation dawned. It was the last stopping point before her funeral the next day.

If it had been up to Caleb, he would have skipped the entire thing, but he knew there was no way he could do that. There was no way he could not honor his wife. With that attitude in mind, he tried to sort through as many of his emotions as he could before he had to leave. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he had a hard time recognizing himself. So much had changed, and so much had worn him down into the person that was staring back at him.

For Caleb, it was hard to believe that it had been five days since her murder. That entire time had gone by in a blur for him, especially with the harsh spotlight that the police were casting on him, and the never-ending worry that whoever had done the ugly deed, would be back for either him or his brother. There had been no other murders in the town since then. Dawn had checked all the sources she could, and had come up with nothing.

And now there was the issue of worrying over whoever had been dumb and brazen enough to go snooping around Katie's body, and even going so far as to look into the private, sealed files related to her case. It was odd, and it was _definitely_ something that Caleb wanted to look into, but not now. Not when his heart was breaking apart at the seams. He was sure that if he saw those men, he would not be able to control the outcome of what he would do.

Nervously tying his tie, he took one last look in the bathroom mirror, feeling like a girl, but also not wanting to look sloppy for something so vitally important to both he and Katie's entire family.

So far, her family had refused to believe what the police were trying to say, and he was grateful for that. It was still terrifying as hell when he knew that they possessed the ultimate power of deciding whether or not to let him go as the evidence was collected. But having their support, even though he knew her mother had never been fond of him, was a nice boost for him.

Hoping against hope that there wouldn't be officers at the visitation, he went downstairs. He was carpooling with Jared, and Katie's family would meet them at the funeral home for the brief service. It was a chance for those that knew and loved her best to say goodbye, and while he knew that there would _never_ be any amount of goodbyes that would suffice it for him, he went along with it anyway.

"You ready?" Jared checked, looking up once he had come out.

Caleb nodded, throat too dry to say much. "Yeah."

"Need help with your tie?" Jared asked, taking one look at the tie. They both remembered the times their father would teach them, and now it had been passed down to the two of them.

"Nope," Caleb said, smiling a little as he recalled nearly every occasion that called for a tie, and Jared would be the one to step up and help his little brother out. That had been years ago, and Caleb had since learned to tie his own with perfect movements.

"Remember when I used to do yours all the time?" Jared asked, obviously thinking about the same memory as he and Caleb prepared to leave for the funeral home.

"Yeah, I do."

"Good times," Jared mused, grabbing his car keys. "Hey, did you hear anything from those investigators?" He stopped by the door leading out into the garage, twirling his keys around one finger.

Caleb shook his head, pursing his lips. "Nah. Dawn said that it might take a few more days to retest the blood. She'll let me know when she hears anything."

Jared was silent as they reached his car. Getting into the front seat, Caleb watched as Jared drove out of the garage, and out into the street. It was hard to know that the next time he returned to that home, he would have seen his wife for the last time. It was her body, but he still felt an impossible connection to her that he knew would not soon leave him.

"What happens if the blood tests positive?" Jared asked, getting to what was on his mind. The morning sun was hidden behind a cloud cover, but was still bright.

"I guess we deal with the fallout, don't we?" Caleb replied, his tone deliberately even.

The last thing he felt like thinking about was the impossible outcome of the blood work coming back positive for his blood on the knife. It would give the cops more than enough ammo to arrest and charge him with her murder, and that thought made him sick to his stomach.

"What if part of that 'fallout' is _you_ in an orange jumpsuit?" Jared asked, knowing that, as his brother, he was allowed certain leeway when it came to interrogating his brother about some things.

"I don't want to think about that right now," Caleb informed him, as he rested his hand underneath his chin.

"I get it, man."

Mentally slapping himself for pushing it, Jared remained quiet as he scanned the different diners and bars that lined their part of the town. These were places that he and his brother had grown up eating in, but those places had never looked more unappealing.

"Did I tell you what happened during my chat with them?" Caleb asked, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the car.

"The cops?"

"Yeah."

"No, what?"

"They yelled at me, I yelled back. They accused me of murdering Katie," Caleb said, as he looked down at his wedding ring. "Then when all was said and done, when I was walking out of the building, and remember those guys we saw earlier that I felt funky about? They were poking around Katie's files."

"What do you mean?" Jared asked, turning his head briefly to look at him, confusion written as clear as day on his soft features.

"Some idiots were caught in the morgue where she was up until yesterday, and then they caught some files that were missing from their registry."

"Are you _kidding_?" Jared demanded incredulously, wondering what in the world was happening in their once quiet town. Murders, theft connected to his sister-in-law's body, it was all too bizarre.

"Nope." Caleb shook his head, popping the 'p'. "They have a visual on them, and they know what kind of car they were bumping around in, but they haven't made contact yet."

"Do you think you should be worried?"

Caleb shook his head. "I have enough on my plate as it is without being worried about two jerks who were violating my wife's privacy."

It was true—once the visitation was over, he would have the day to rest before being expected to attend her funeral the next morning. In a way, it would be a relief to have that part of it over with, and he would be able to have a proper chance to grieve. However in another way, it only solidified her death, and that was something he wasn't sure he was ready to accept yet.

"Are you at all ready for this?" Jared asked, as he pulled into the crowded parking lot of the funeral home.

"Hell no."

It was something he would have to endure for his own sanity—and for the obligation that he felt toward Katie—but he couldn't wait until the last guests left, and he was able to mourn her in private like he had wanted to do all along, but had been unable to because of the pressure the cops were putting on him.

Inside, the room that would be hosting the viewing, wasn't overcrowded like he had originally feared. A good number of people had turned out for this, and he was grateful, because from the looks of things, it was only the people who had known her best.

As predicted, Katie's parents were there, along with several members of her family that he either didn't know too well, or hadn't met at all in the three or so years that he had been lucky enough to be married. Giving those people as gracious a welcoming as he could, his main focus was gauging her parent's reactions to the police, and what they were undoubtedly informing them about their son-in-law.

"Caleb," her father said, coming up and giving him a warm hug. "I heard that you were a big help in...in helping arrange some of her funeral and visitation."

It was obvious her father was struggling just as much as the rest of them—and why wouldn't he? He had just lost his child, and to the most tragic and unbelievable of circumstances. It would be hard for _anyone_ , and in that moment, all Caleb could feel was sorrow and pity for this man.

"I did what I could," Caleb told him honestly.

"Well, thank you. I know that Katie would have been appreciative, too."

"I hope so."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask him about whether or not he truly believed the stories that the police were telling them about him, but he decided against it. They were acting perfectly normal and nice to him, and he decided not to rock the boat by bringing it up.

Walking away from them, he almost went over to the casket where her body was, but chickened out. He wanted to be able to have a somewhat private moment with her before her burial, and knew that it would have to wait until most of the guests had cleared out before doing it.

Jared was mingling with some of the other guests. Caleb was glad that part didn't have to fall solely on his shoulders, and that he was helping him out with it.

It was when he spotted too unfamiliar faces in the crowd, that his entire body went rigid with the unbridled fury that he felt at everything that had happened recently. It was two men, ones that he recognized from when he and Jared had been driving, and the men he heard the police describe.

If it was really them, he had no idea what he planned on doing. It wasn't like he wanted to make a scene at Katie's visitation, but these two jerks were crossing the line by snooping through her personal files, her body, and then to come to her visitation?

Walking away from the couple that he had distractedly engaged in conversation, he made his way over to them. They were standing at the edges of the room, quietly observing everything that was going on, and that made him even more furious.

"Excuse me," Caleb said, interrupting the hushed conversation that they had been having. "Hi."

"Hello," the preacher-looking man said, as he nodded politely at him.

"Hi," the rough and gruff one said.

"I don't mean to be rude," Caleb said, "but who the hell are you people?"

The two men had the nerve to appear surprised, and the rougher looking one even took a step toward him, as though he was intending on punching him out in a room full of people.

"Who are _you_?" he demanded, while the gentler one placed a restraining hand on his arm.

"Bobby, not here," he said quietly. "I'm sure there's been some misunderstanding," he added, turning to Caleb.

"I don't think so. I'm Katie River's husband, Caleb, and while I was in the station being interrogated for the second or third time that week, I overhead them talking about two guys poking around my wife's body, and files and you match their descriptions. And not to mention, I saw you at the morgue earlier this week!"

It was obvious he had struck a nerve—the rough one even looked guilty for his initial response, while the older one wore an expression of sympathy for what he was going through.

"We're-" the one named Bobby began.

"We're detectives," the older one said, giving Bobby a look as though they were in on some secret that Caleb had no idea about.

For a second, all Caleb could do was stare at them incredulously, as though they _really_ expected him to be stupid enough to fall for something so completely ridiculous. It only increased his distrust of these people, and why they were _really_ there to begin with.

"You know, that's funny," Caleb said, doing his best to keep his voice at an even level so he wouldn't alarm the other guests. "Because my _father_ used to be a police officer, and that meant that we had a rotation of detectives and PI's in our house because of him, and you two don't look like _anyone_ I've ever seen before."

"Listen-" the kinder one began.

"No. Why don't _you_ cut the bullcrap, and tell me the !@#$%^ &* truth!"

The two men paused, obviously considering the best angle to approach him from. It was infuriating to Caleb, who had dealt with all that he could deal with, and was now having to deal with two men who had the nerve to lie to his face, and go snooping around his wife's body, and her medical reports.

"Okay, my name is Jim," Jim said, "and this is Bobby. It _is_ true that we're investigating the death of your wife."

"But why?" Caleb asked, shifting his stance. "What _possible_ interest would you have in that?"

"Because we think that someone murdered her-"

"Well, duh," Caleb said, rolling his eyes in irritation. "She didn't stab _herself_ with that !@#$%^ &* knife."

"We think that something unnatural caused her to die," Bobby said, not bothering to beat around the bush anymore, as he ignored the look of warning that Jim passed over to him, no doubt concerned that he was revealing too much too soon.

"What do you mean?" Caleb asked, raising an eyebrow.

"There are things in this world that we can't really explain," Bobby said quietly, so as not to attract the attention of curious bystanders, "and it's one of those things that we think killed her."

"What?" Caleb said blankly. "No offense or anything, but you're making about as much sense as the cops thinking I killed her, which makes absolutely _no_ sense."

"There are evil beings and entities out there," Jim said, taking over from where Bobby had left off. "Demons, spirits, and there are people that fight them, like we do."

"And we think that one of those things killed her."

Now Caleb was _sure_ that he had heard it all. If he wasn't so shocked and infuriated at what they were spouting out to him, he was sure he would have laughed in their faces. As it was, he was having a hard time restraining himself from following through with his original plan of punching them for their unwanted intrusion.

"You know what?" Caleb said, his voice shaking despite his best efforts to control himself. "I have been through _hell_ the last few days, and the last thing I need is you two idiots feeding me a line of bull. I don't need this from anyone right now, especially the people who are poking their noses where it's not wanted."

"I'm sorry," Jim said, "but you wanted the truth, and this is what it is."

"For you it is. Not for me. Demons and spirits don't exist."

Only in horror movies and bad literature, but certainly not in real life. The last thing he needed was these two guys giving him some phony excuse as to why they were poking around things they had no business being in. It was upsetting, sure, but he was more angry than anything.

"They do," Bobby said, "if you want, we can-"

"I don't want anything from you," Caleb interrupted. "All I want is for you to turn and walk out those doors, or else I'm calling the cops."

At least they would serve one purpose in ridding him of these people who seemed bound and determined to make him believe some ludicrous story about monsters and ghosts being real.

"Okay," Jim said, "we're leaving, but in case you ever need us, or if something else happens, here's my number. We'll be in town a few more days."

Silently accepting the piece of paper with his name and number on it, Caleb pocketed it, fully intending on disposing of it once he got home.


	7. Chapter 7

Caleb was glad when the visitation was over and done with, and he was allowed to return to the privacy of his own bedroom in Jared's house, and process the horrific events of the day. To grieve his wife in a way that he had been unable to up until that point. It had been devastating, and also numbing, to see his wife in the casket. To fully realize that no matter what he may have wished for, she was gone, and he was living in a state of reality, and not a dream. A part of him had hoped that he would soon wake up from the absurdity of what had taken place, and resume his life as before. However, he was quickly realizing that it was not possible. Sitting on the edge of the old bed, the bed-springs creaked under his weight. Putting his head in his hands, he breathed as deeply as he could, and tried to remove as much of the strain from his heart and soul as he could. That was no easy task when he was playing host to a myriad of thoughts and emotions.

The visitation was the final stop before her funeral the next day. It was almost unspeakable to him that he would have to attend yet another service, and watch as her body was lowered into the ground decades before she was supposed to. Her family had decided that instead of a mournful tone to her funeral, the service would be a celebration of her life. Of the many accomplishments she had achieved through her short years on earth, and of the woman she had become, and the life she had led. What was proving to be a relief to her mourning husband, was the funeral was invitation only. The visitation had been a way for many to come together, and pay their respects, but her family wanted the service to be private. It would reduce the risk of unwanted intrusion, and provide an intimate feel for the gathering. And also prevent unwanted intrusion. Especially from the men who he had caught in the middle of the service.

A torrent of anger washed through her husband as he recalled with perfect clarity, the sense of disbelief and rage that had coursed through his body when he locked eyes on the two men who had been snooping around his wife's case. Although it had to be the most inappropriate place to confront them, he had ignored the rational part of him that demanded he treat the situation with caution. Untangling himself from the people he had been conversing with, he strode up to them, and demanded to know who they thought they were. The audacity of them to come around his wife's viewing, and treat her and her case with such utter disrespect. In that moment, it had been hard not to greet them with a punch.

And then they had the nerve to appear shocked that he was confronting them about their strange involvement in a room full of the people who knew and loved her best. Truth be told, Caleb almost couldn't believe it himself, but his fury overtook anything else that might have stopped him from creating a scene. Staring at them, one was dressed like a pastor, and the one resembled a hardened trucker, he tried to understand what would motivate them to crash this event. Listening to the calmer one try to counsel the other to be respectful, he was convinced he had landed in the Twilight Zone. There had to be no other explanation as to why he was dealing with something so crazy and stupid as these two men trying to talk to him as though he was unstable.

The best part had come when the pastor informed him, as gently as he could, that the supernatural existed. It was not just a product of a sick fascination, and endless amounts of literature and bad horror movies that gullible people devoured. According to them, that was why his life had been torn apart at the seams. For a second, he had not been sure how to respond to them, or what to make of what they were saying to him. Was it code for something? A double message he was trying to impart to him? Only when he had been assured that they were, in fact, very serious, had his disbelief taken over. A part of him naturally assumed they were crazy for trying to get him to believe that garbage. Especially when his mind was already wrecked enough.

The supernatural did not exist. He knew that much to be absolutely certain. It was only real in the world of bad horror movies, and the people who drove in flocks to see the latest one. It had a place in pop culture, and even Caleb had been guilty of renting a ghost movie or two for the fun of it, but it had no standing in real life. Katie had been murdered by a psychotic fool who had taken the first chance he got. Not anything in a monstrous form-not in a literal sense. To insult his intelligence on that matter, was unbelievable to him. And the pastor's silent partner, who looked for all the world that he would give anything not to be there in that kind of place, had nearly punched Caleb in a room full of people for his brash treatment of them. Definitely not a good first impression, and Caleb knew that one would stick.

Pushing himself against the headboard, he dug his fingers around in his pocket until he found the small slip of paper with the name and number of the pastor, and where he could be reached for anything else. When Caleb had received the piece of paper from the pastor, he had fully intended on disposing of it as soon as he got home. Now that he was home and ready to surrender his body to the sleep it needed, he was ready to do just that. He ignored the tingling sensation in his heart that perhaps there was more to what the pastor was saying. That perhaps there was a smidgen of truth to what he said, but Caleb ignored it. There was nothing stupider than believing a fable. Tearing the paper in two with a disgusted snort, he laid back down on the soft pillows. He needed as much sleep as he could.

Even though he had already concluded that sleep was a foregone impossibility, it did not stop him from setting his alarm clock, and turning off the lights. Even though the room was blanketed in a thick layer of silence, he could not find the will to sleep. Where his body begged him to find the sleep he needed, his mind was another matter altogether. Choosing that time to assault his mind's view of his wife, and the very real danger he faced of being arrested, he spent most of the night tossing and turning. Groaning in frustration when he tossed and turned instead of sleeping, he pressed the pillow over his eyes, and tried to find any peace he could. In a few short hours, he would wake up for Katie's funeral, and then he would be allowed to mourn her like he wanted.

Deciding not to risk another embarrassing incident like had happened in years past, he continued on his trek down the stairs, and into the kitchen where Jared had already made a steaming pot of coffee for his consumption.

Out of everyone in his family, it was _he_ who lived for the caffeinated beverage. It gave him that much needed extra boost on the _best_ of days, and on days where he was barely lifting one foot in front of the other, it was an absolute lifesaver for him, as he eagerly poured himself a generous amount.

Exhaling deeply as the searing hot liquid migrated down his throat, he was brought out of the somewhat peaceful state that he had been reveling in, by the appearance of his brother. Jared had jumped the gun on him, and had already gotten dressed ahead of time for the service.

"Morning, princess," Jared said, smacking him on the head, as he walked past him to pour himself a cup.

"Bite me," Caleb said, swiveling around to aim a punch at his back.

"Sleep good?"

"Nah," Caleb said, shaking his head. "Too much on my mind."

"Same here. I thought the visitation went okay last night," Jared said, after a minute.

"I did, too. Except those two guys were there."

"They were there?" Jared demanded, almost dropping his mug. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. They fed me some bull line about how big scary monsters are _real_ ," Caleb said with a laugh, "and a bunch of other crap. I told 'em to leave or else I would call the cops."

"Wow," Jared said under his breath. "To make a scene like that at something so important..."

"I know. I might have actually gone through with it if I wasn't dealing with the crap I've been dealing with."

"Have you heard back from them yet?"

Caleb shook his head; steepling his hands in front of his face. He didn't want to have to face the music, and hear the results of the blood test. It had been a blissful few days of not having to run down to the police station for more questions, and hear more of the results from the blood test. They were retesting the sample they had, and he knew that if the sample came back positive, they would have enough to charge him for murder. The thought made him want to throw up. They had been clear that they suspected him of Katie's murder, and it was horrifying.

"Not yet. They said that it might take a few days to...retest the blood."

Jared nodded. "Has Dawn said anything?"

Caleb shook his head. "Just that they're still in the lab working on it."

One of the smartest things his brother had done for him, had been to hook him up with his new attorney. Dawn Michaels was a powerhouse of an attorney. When Caleb had looked up her success rate in the courtroom, he had been even more impressed with her. It was clear that she was not used to losing one of her cases, and he needed that kind of confidence she could give him. Besides that, he sensed a genuine concern for him that was comforting.

"Hard to believe," Jared mused softly, "that any of this is real."

"They dropped the ball with this one. They refuse to believe that someone _else_ could have killed her," Caleb said, shaking his head incredulously, "and now they may just get someone innocent."

It was awful and it was unfair, but he knew that since the police had no other viable leads to pursue, they had set their sights on him, the last person to have seen her alive, and the one they thought had something to answer for.

"But," Jared said, scrambling for a way to refute what his brother was implying. "They would be getting someone _innocent_ , like you said, someone who had no part in what happened to Katie-"

"Yeah," Caleb said, standing up, "and apparently that doesn't matter. Innocent or not. As long as they have a reliable story they can feed to the vultures out there who want to know what happened."

Caleb wasn't blind—he knew how their town worked, and how it thirsted for answers when something unexpected like this happened, and as unfair as it was, they often wanted to believe that they were safe again, and so would accept whatever the police told them.

Even if it was a complete lie to cover the fact that they weren't smart enough to find the real killer responsible.

"Wow," Jared said quietly. "When you put it like that..."

"I know. So either we get through this funeral, and there's a brightly lit road at the end of the tunnel, or we crash land into something else entirely."

"Just so you know, I have your back through this. We'll work this out somehow."

"Thanks. It means a lot."

It really did. He needed all the support that he could possibly get, even if it was coming from someone who was supposed to believe in him, it was still comforting to know that he wasn't alone in this brutal fight that the cops had landed on him.

"You ready to start getting ready?" Jared asked, finally finding a way to beat the awkward silence that had fallen over them.

"Yeah."

* * *

The weather was nice as they departed for the church. It contrasted horribly with the mood that everyone seemed to share in common as Caleb, Jared and various members of theirs and Katie's family sat together at the front.

It was something that she would have loved, seeing them all together, and Caleb tried to remember that the best he could while he listened to the loving and accurate way in which the preacher spoke about her, highlighting only the best qualities about her, and only very briefly touching on the fact that she had died through homicide.

"I ask," the preacher said, as he closed his speech. "That you not remember the way in which Katie left us, but that you remember the amazing life that she led, with the people that knew and loved her the most.

I also ask that you keep her family in your thoughts and prayers," he said, directing his gaze over at Caleb and Katie's family. "They have suffered not only the loss of their 'beautiful girl', as her husband called her, but also a child that never got to see us or experience this world, but got to ascend with his or her mother into eternal peace."

It was a relief when the service was done, and the music had stopped playing, as beautiful as it was. The preacher had said all the right things, and the people that had come up to deliver their eulogies of her, had all been spot-on with their recollections and stories, but it was a relief to have that part of it over with as they moved on to the final part of the morning, her burial.

They had chosen a plot that would sit right next to Caleb's when he eventually passed. It was something that he had requested, and something that had come together at the last minute due to the fact that he and Katie had never talked about plots during their marriage.

It was absolutely fruitless to try to hold back his tears, as the casket was gently lowered into the ground, after a few more words from the preacher. It was the most ridiculous thing to him, but as he watched the casket being lowered, he felt a panic for Katie, that she would be alone down there.

Of course she wasn't present in body anymore, and he tried to remember that as he and her family each picked up dirt and threw it on top of her casket, symbolizing so much in that gesture, but most importantly, their unity and togetherness as a family.

When all was said and done and the service had officially wrapped up, he tried to find some measure of comfort in the fact that she could finally rest in peace, but he couldn't. Not when he had a hard time letting go of how she had died, and the increasing guilt that he felt at not being there for her like he felt he should have been.

* * *

Grateful to be allowed to go back home with his brother, he wasted no time in taking off the hot clothes that he had been in during much of the morning, and took a long and satisfying shower to stave off the nausea that he could feel coursing through his veins.

Next up was indulging in as much rest as he could possibly get, as he collapsed on top of the bed that had sustained him through a lot the last few days, enabling him to rest and attempt to forget the harshness of the world, and what it had to offer him lately.

To his surprise, he was able to return to the world of sleep fairly easily. Either his body had been holding out on him while it put him through the natural, painful grieving process, or the exhaustion had finally won over everything else.

Either way, he didn't fight it as he pressed the pillow tightly to his side, and allowed the process to happen naturally. When he woke, it took him a second to realize that he had actually managed to obtain meaningful sleep instead of the odd hour or two that he had gotten every now and again.

Rolling over on his side, he glanced over at the clock, and saw that it was nearly four. It had been hours since he and Jared had returned home from the service for Katie, and while it had been something he had needed in order to find some amount of peace, it had been an emotionally exhausting day (and week).

Getting up from the comforts of the bed that he had previously enjoyed, he made the short trek downstairs. The TV was going in the living room, Jared was watching some ballgame that had apparently long ago lost his interest, but was too tired (or lazy) to switch it to something else. Plopping down next to him, Caleb took possession of the remote as he switched it to something that better suited his tastes.

"I was watching that," Jared remarked, though the bite that would have normally been present in his tone, was nowhere to be seen.

"You were drooling," Caleb shot back, as he settled on a wrestling game.

"What can I say? It was riveting," Jared said, allowing a small, teasing smile to cross his features.

This was something they both had missed—the teasing and fun that used to dominate most of their relationship as brothers. Even though Jared, as the older brother, had been obligated to give his little brother a hard time growing up, most of it had been in good fun, and never anything serious.

"My !@#$%^&*," Caleb said, shaking his head.

"So are you glad that it's over with?"

"What? The funeral?"

Jared nodded. "Yeah."

"In a way. I won't have to think about the arrangements, and having to listen to people come up to me and tell me what a wonderful person she was, and most of them hadn't seen her in decades."

"I know what you mean. Anything from the cops yet?"

It was the elephant in the room that Caleb wished desperately would go away. It didn't help that they had piled so much pressure on his shoulders right in the midst of him preparing for his wife and child's memorial service.

"Not yet."

He didn't know whether to take that as a good sign, or as a bad one. They were retesting the blood that they had already gathered from him, but it was the results of that test that he was worried about. If it came back positive, which seemed impossible to him, that his blood had been on the blade of the knife used to kill Katie, the cops would probably have all they needed to make an arrest.

And even though _he_ knew that there was no way his blood had been anywhere near that knife, it didn't mean that the police wouldn't find the same results, and would use that to his detriment.

It was scary, the waiting game, and though he was dreading hearing some more bad news come from their pretentious mouths, it was almost preferable to sitting around and waiting for the next bombshell to drop.

"What do you think about that?"

"I don't know what to think. If I should be freaked, or be counting my blessings."

It was that instant that the phone rang. Giving his brother an incredulous look, Caleb hesitantly picked it up. After listening to what the person on the other end had to say, he hung up.

"What?" Jared asked, catching the look on his face.

"They have the results."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caleb is really going through a transition period, of sorts. Right now, he does not believe in the supernatural. As you would expect, and he thinks Jim and Bobby are absolutely out of their minds for even believing it themselves. But his mind also wants an explanation for why his life has been made into a nightmare.


	8. Chapter 8

It was impossible _not_ to panic at the idea that the police had the blood test results back, and ready for him to hear. They had tormented him over the last several days with the knowledge that all they needed, was that crucial go-ahead from the lab, and they would be free to make an arrest.

It was fruitless to attempt to distract himself as he and Jared made the trip, once again, back downtown to the police station so that Caleb could hear the final results. It was ridiculous, the spotlight that they had cast on him, but he knew that it was only because they didn't have any other viable leads, and so that automatically put _him_ in that unwanted spot, and made _him_ the person everyone looked at and thought of when they contemplated who killed Katie.

Shaking his head in simple disbelief at the drastic turn his life had taken, he reached over and turned up the air conditioning in the car. It was probably only him, but the car seemed to resemble the feel of an oven, even though it was chilly outside, a reflection that was clear as day inside the car.

It was a result of his shattered nerves.

Nerves that had put their owner through the epitome of _hell_ the last week, and seemed determined to keep it going. Nothing compared though, to the trip his mind gave him as it constantly bombarded him with images of what could happen when he walked inside the stuffy conference room that the detectives had used as their base of operations for interrogating him.

Either the results would be clean, and he would be off the hook for something that he had absolutely _no_ part in to begin with, or the results would come back dirty and the cops would have even _more_ of a reason to look deeper into him.

Though in his heart of hearts, Caleb knew that the results _had_ to be clean. There was no way that his blood was on the handle, the blade, or anywhere near the knife at all, because he hadn't picked it up with bloody hands, and he certainly hadn't used it to kill his wife, like the police kept fantasizing he did.

And if by some incredible miscarriage of justice there _was_ blood on the handle that matched his, he was seriously beginning to wonder if the cops weren't just desperate enough to plant it there, to arrest the most likely suspect so that the town would stop badgering them for answers that they _didn't_ have.

It was those thoughts running through his already crowded brain that he focused on, as he watched the landmarks in their town rush past them. The statue in the park that used to be the destination of a _thousand_ different clandestine makeout sessions between the youth and their respective, significant others, and the different buildings that were as historical as anything else.

The courthouse and the library being two of the most important because of the history associated with it. Back before they were first built, in ancient times, several wars had happened between their ancestors and when all was said and done, the land was marked as the site that a great battle had happened, and as a memorial to the fallen, two respectable buildings had been erected on that site.

The police station and the courthouse.

Back when he was a carefree, idiotic teenage boy, Caleb had actually found some of the history surrounding his town, fascinating. It was weird to know that some of the more _unbelievable_ things that had happened to his ancestors, had _really_ happened, and in his own town, too.

Now he found none of it appealing anymore. The same stories that used to enamor Caleb, no longer did. They had been passed down from friend to friend, relative to relative that he had heard it so many times he wanted to throw something across the room when it was brought up.

Now the same town that he used to love, was only causing his life to become a living nightmare. Instead of the sense of love and support that he had grown to expect from the police, especially since his father used to be one of them, he had only been looked upon with suspicion and interrogated like he was a criminal, ones that his father used to bring in all the time.

And the hardest part for him, was that there was nothing he could do to dissuade them from their skewed opinion of him. The cops had a firm view of the world and how it operated, and that was clearly in black and white, no room for any other colors, no room for any other possibilities.

Once they zeroed in on a possible suspect or person of interest, it was nearly impossible for them to change that opinion that they had of someone. To his knowledge, he was the only one they had looked at, the only one who they thought showed motive, (whatever _that_ was), and had something to answer for.

Switching his one leg over the other, he looked over at his brother. Jared, who was normally a lot more relaxed and carefree than this, looked positively terrified for his baby brother, and the horrible position he was being put in by the police.

His knuckles were chalk white against the steering wheel as he turned onto the quiet street that led to the police station. It was a journey that they had all embarked on several times before, especially when their father had been alive, and he had taken them in for the odd father/son day.

Back then, it was fun.

Seeing all the officers, getting to test out the sirens and the various equipment that they relied on to keep them safe from harm. Now, all Caleb could feel was contempt for that place, and the hell that they insisted on putting him through.

"Okay," Jared said, once he had pulled into an empty parking spot near the front entrance. "You want me to go in with you?"

It had become the standard question with which he had approached Caleb with when they had to make the all too familiar drive there, and while his brother normally shot him down, he was wondering if he would feel more inclined to have him go with him.

"No, it's good," Caleb said, after a pause, as though he had been considering having him go in with him. "Just—just stay here or go home, and I'll call you."

"No, I'll stay here."

"Okay."

"Wait," Jared said, as he watched Caleb about to step out of the car. "Are you _sure_ you don't want me to call someone?"

"Like who?"

Who could _possibly_ be strong enough to help them out of this legal nightmare that they had been thrust into? It made no sense to _him_ , and he doubted that any attorney would be able to make much more sense of it than _he_ already had.

"An attorney or someone that knows their way around this crap?"

"It won't make a difference right now. If we hire one now, we run the risk of them suspecting that I actually _have_ something to hide."

Not that he had any doubt that that was _exactly_ what they were thinking, but he didn't want to give them more ammo for which to judge him with. He would wait until he absolutely had no other choice, before finding one.

"I know, but they can give us our options. Tell us what we need to be doing differently."

"You can call one if you want," Caleb said, checking the time on his watch, and realizing that he had to be in there in a minute. "I have to go in, though. I'm supposed to meet them at three."

"Okay. Just don't let them intimidate you."

"I'll try," Caleb said with a short laugh, as he slammed the car door before walking inside the large building. He had walked in there so much the last few days that he was even becoming familiar with the one that was most often manning the main phone lines, and the guards that patrolled the area on a regular basis.

Once he stated his name and reason for being there, he was told to go and wait over by the seating area, which he declined, in favor of leaning against the rough and uncomfortable pole that was situated right in the middle of the room.

Even if he had been able to calm his frazzled nerves enough to go and sit down someplace, he doubted he would have long to wait, anyway. It wasn't unusual for the two investigators to come out and get him almost immediately after he arrived, which was what he was hoping for today.

The less time he had to wait and contemplate the results, the better.

"Thank you for coming back in," Allen said, as he came out and shook his hand. "My partner is waiting in the room, if you want to go back with me?"

Like hell he didn't, but it wasn't as though he had another choice to choose from. Reluctantly, he followed him down the main drag, around a corner and into the same type of conference room that they had conducted most of their meetings so far.

Reynolds was waiting for them—his arms crossed over his chest, as he waited for Caleb to come in and for Allen to shut the door behind them. Taking a seat at his usual spot, Caleb waited for one of them to begin speaking.

It was nerve-wracking to wait for these results, and know that they could hold the key as to whether or not he would be off the hook for a murder he never committed, or just give the police more of a reason to look into him.

"We got the results back from the crime lab," Allen began, as he sorted through the file that Caleb knew contained the answer to the question that he wasn't even sure he _wanted_ to know.

" _And_?" Caleb prompted, raising an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"The blood work," Reynolds said, clearly taking on the role of "good cop." "Came back positive for your blood on the blade."

For a second, Caleb wasn't sure he had heard them right. There _had_ to have been a mistake, or he had heard them wrong and had mistaken those words for the pounding of his own heart, which was getting to the point where it was almost painful.

Swallowing back the roll of vomit in the back of his throat, once he was aware of their expressions, and how they had hardly changed from when they had made the announcement and now, Caleb felt sick. They were telling the truth, or their own distorted version of it, anyway.

"What-" he found himself saying, struggling to formulate the words needed to make conversation with these people who had made his life a living nightmare, on top of everything else that he had to deal with that week. "What do you mean?"

"When our lab conducted the retest," Allen explained, not being nearly as affable as his partner was being. "It came back positive for _your_ blood on the blade that was used to kill your wife, Katie Rivers."

Caleb felt sick to his stomach as he turned his head away from their inquiring gazes to wipe the stray set of tears that had once again clogged his senses. It was too much, all of it was, and even though he felt like he had been thinking that over and over, it was true.

It was all too much to lose his wife, then be the target of a police investigation, have them accuse him of murdering her, and now hearing the absolutely devastating news that his blood had been on the handle of the blade.

Somehow.

In his heart of hearts, he had _truly_ believed that the blood results would end the investigation into him, but he had been wrong, because the worst possible thing had happened.

"I—I don't know what to say," Caleb finally said, his voice breaking. "I didn't kill her. I didn't use that knife to kill her, because I wasn't _there_. Why won't you people believe me when I tell you this?"

"Because," Reynolds said, taking on a calmer, gentler approach with him, that was in stark comparison to his partner's harsh and often unforgiving attitude. "We _want_ to believe you, we do, but there are some things that don't quite line up right now."

"Like _what_?" Caleb said, not able to keep the venom out of his tone as he fixed his eyes on him.

"The blood evidence, for one thing. How could _your_ blood be on the blade if you didn't use it?"

"I don't know," Caleb said, his hand shaking as he raised it to swipe it across his eyes again. "I can't explain it. I don't know _why_ that's on there, but I was _not_ there."

"Why did you step outside while you were working that night?" Allen prompted.

"For a break," Caleb explained, fighting to keep his patience. "I was given my break, and I went outside to take a breath. That's it.”

"How long was your break that night?"

"Twenty minutes. I didn't leave the store, though. I went outside and I walked around for a minute, but I never left the lot!"

Of course he could have had it done through other means, and that was what he knew they were thinking, and it made him want to throw up all over again.

"Did you call someone to do it?" Reynolds asked quietly, obviously trying to get Caleb to trust him and open up to him more. "We can help you, and I'm not lying, either. You have a clean record, no prior arrests for anything. We can cut you a deal, but we _need_ you to be honest."

"I _am_ being honest," Caleb said, his voice shaking. "I _never_ called anyone."

"Then how did your blood end up on the knife?" Allen asked incredulously, as he traded looks with Reynolds. "It didn't just magically appear there, did it?"

"I don't know, but it wasn't from me."

At least he could say that and be one hundred percent sure that he was telling the truth. He had no idea who had planted the blood evidence on the knife, but he knew beyond a shadow of anything, that he had never raised that knife to harm her.

Not that that knowledge would suffice for the police, who seemed determined to believe that it was him, that he had done something to Katie, and with the evidence right there in front of them, he almost couldn't blame them for jumping to conclusions like they were.

"We have a hard time believing that," Reynolds said, rejecting his statement.

"I don't care," Caleb said honestly. "I know the truth, and I would rather _die_ than raise a hand to that woman."

It was undoubtedly the same story that they had heard from _thousands_ of other people in the same spot, but the only difference was was that _he_ was telling the truth. It wasn't a lie to cover his ass or anything of the sort, it was the plain and simple truth that he was speaking to them from.

"We have the blood, and we have the other DNA evidence that proved that yours and hers were on it. No one else," Allen said. "Now tell us again about the fight that you and Katie had the day before she died."

Caleb sighed, not even believing that they were expecting him to rehash _one_ fight that they had the morning before she died. It had been one argument that hadn't even gotten _that_ heated, and had blown over by the time he had returned home.

"We were fighting-"

"About your new job, right?" Reynolds recalled.

"Yes. She had wanted me to get more money, so I put in for a position that would get me in that spot, and once I got it, she was unhappy because of how much time I spent away from home."

"And the argument was about that?" Allen asked, writing something down in his notes.

Caleb nodded. "Yes. She said stuff she regretted. I said stuff I regretted. I left, and then by the time I came back home that night, everything was fine between us."

"And then the next night was when she died," Reynolds said. "So you're saying you never called anyone, right?"

"Yes."

"And you never killed her?"

"No."

"Well," Allen said, shaking his head as he pinched the bridge between his nose and eyes. "There's no other way to explain the blood on the knife. None. We ran it through _twice_ , and we got the same results every single time."

"Then maybe _you're_ the ones doing something wrong," Caleb suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Reynolds said, shaking his head. "We just got our new technology for testing this stuff, and it's been tried and proven to be a foolproof way of identifying DNA and blood evidence."

Caleb could feel his heart thundering in his ribcage as he listened to what they were saying, even though none of it made sense to him. It was ridiculous that they would honestly assume something so horrible about him, especially when he had a rock solid alibi to back up his claims.

Though the blood on the knife was the _one_ thing they couldn't get past, and in a way, he understood, even though he was terrified of what they would do with this new knowledge.

"We know where that blood came from," Allen said, after a minute of silence. "We know that your blood was on it, and we know that the knife came from the kitchen."

"Good for you," Caleb said harshly.

"We also know," Reynolds said, "that there were no signs of forced entry, meaning that Katie probably knew her attacker and let them in, or the person was able to go in."

"That wasn't _me_ ," Caleb said, as a single tear slid down his cheek.

"And then we have the fact that nothing was stolen or taken from the house, meaning that it was more of a personal, crime of passion situation, than a robber breaking in and seeing her and then killing her."

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, or in what _language_ I need to say it in, but I did _not_ hurt her," Caleb said, hating the fact that he was getting so emotional in front of them, but also not able to control it.

"But you see," Allen said, trying to reason with him. "The evidence that _we_ have, says differently. I'm not saying that you _wanted_ to hurt her, but maybe you were having a fight, and it got out of control?"

"I would never hit her. Not in a fight, not ever."

It sounded like he had said the _exact_ same thing over and over again, and while it was as absolutely true as the _first_ hundred times he had said it, they _still_ didn't seem to believe him, and the new evidence that seemed to frame him for the crime, only heightened their unreasonable suspicion.

"You need to stop lying," Reynolds said. "You're only digging yourself in deeper."

"I am _not_ a liar," Caleb said, doing his best to maintain steady eye contact with them, even though his posture was crumbling with the fear and the pressure that they were putting him under. "I would never hurt her, not ever. I don't care what the evidence says, because _I_ know what happened."

"And what's that?" Allen asked.

"Nothing," Caleb said, shaking his head. "Because I didn't do it. I don't know who did it, either. I wish I did, though."

He knew it wasn't enough. No explanation in the _world_ would be able to go over the blood evidence that they had found on the knife. The only thing they were looking for _now_ , was a confession, and one that he would never give to them because he hadn't done the crime.

"Alright," Reynolds said, shaking his head."There isn't _anything_ else you might want to tell us?"

"I have nothing more to say," Caleb said, "except that I didn't do this, and you know it."

"We have you stepping outside of work," Allen reminded him. "For a break, yes, and then when we reviewed the security footage from the store, we didn't see you _anywhere_ on the camera. So either you walked out of its range, or you _drove_ out of its range."

This was stupid—and pointless. They could argue all day about it, and it wouldn't make any difference at the end of the day.

"I'm done talking about this," Caleb said, looking at him. "I already told you everything for the hundredth time. I'm not saying anymore."

"Okay," Reynolds said, "stand up, turn around and put your hands behind your back."

Caleb knew this was coming—knew that the second they saw that his blood was on the knife, they would arrest him for her murder, but it didn't make that knowledge any easier on him. He was scared, and he was mad that they were bullying him like they were.

It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair that either _they_ had botched the investigation, or someone (maybe them), had planted the blood on the knife in order to frame him for the crime, especially since the town was getting antsy for answers, and they had no other suspects.

Either way, it was terrifying for someone who had never been arrested, had no idea what to expect, and had no idea _why_ he was being treated the way he was.

His entire body was numb as he stood up from his chair. The only feeling that he registered at _all_ was the feeling of his heart as it thumped out a weak beat, as though it could sense what was happening, and was just as scared as he was.

Turning away from Allen, he placed his hands behind his back. Closing his eyes, he tried to breathe through the amount of panic that he could feel coursing through his system. When he felt Allen's hand grip his as he prepared to put the first cuff on, he jerked away from the touch.

It was a stupid thing to do, and he knew it, but he harbored so much hatred for this person that the idea of him touching him, was absolutely _revolting_.

"Don't resist," Reynolds warned quietly, his voice actually taking on a sympathetic tone to it.

Caleb nodded, taking in a deep breath as he felt the smooth metal of the handcuffs fasten around his one wrist, and then the other, locking his hands behind him. A powerless feeling settled over him as the cuffs _click click clicked_ into place behind him, and he hated it.

This was a position that he _never_ should have been in. The blood work should have come back clean, and he should have been on his way already. Instead, he was being arrested for a murder that he had never even committed.

"You're under arrest for suspicion of murder," Fountain said, beginning to read him his rights. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you free of charge. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?"

"Yes," Caleb said, surprised he was even able to speak.

After that, Allen leaned him against the wall while Reynolds thoroughly searched him for anything illegal or incriminating that he may have in his possession, but the only thing he had were his car keys and a few loose credit cards.

"Can I keep my wedding ring on?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"Yeah, you're allowed to wear personal, um, belongings inside the jail," Allen said softly.

"Thank you."

* * *

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Caleb ): Dawn was not in this meeting because even if she had been, there was nothing that she could have done to prevent the outcome of what the DNA evidence showed. She's GOOD, but she's not that good. So, this was one meeting that Caleb went to by himself.


	9. Chapter 9

It seemed unimaginable to Caleb that instead of hearing that the blood test results had shown that, in fact, he was very innocent of the murders of his wife and unborn baby, the results from the lab, had shown that his blood had been on the handle and blade of the knife. In his heart, even though he had been terrified of hearing the results, he had believed that there could have been no other conclusion, other than the investigators finding him innocent. Instead of moving on to the next suspect, they had made their accusations against him clear. They thought he killed his wife, and now they had the forensic evidence of that. 

The young man knew it would have been pointless to argue his case, but he could not let himself go down the hole without first presenting his strongest argument. He had not been there. He had been at work the night his wife had been killed, and he had only stepped outside for a minute for a quick break. That would not have been enough time to travel across town, and kill her. He knew that to be true, but it was not his opinion that made the difference. Wishing more than anything he thought to have Dawn in this meeting with him, he vaguely listened to Allen and Reynolds present their reasonings for why it clearly had to be him. 

Then, they had informed him that he was under arrest for her murder. It did not surprise him once he heard the results of the blood retesting. If they had that one crucial piece of evidence to pin on him, they would have no other reason not to charge him with murder. He knew this, but it was still horrifying that he was being put in the position of having to defend his life against these accusations. His throat was dry, and his body was shaking as he allowed himself to be cuffed, and searched. One of the two investigators had clearly tried to be the good cop with him, and so had treated him with a small amount of respect. He could tell the other did not harbor any such feelings.

In their minds, they had found the killer of Katie Rivers, and had found a suitable story to feed to the vultures in the media, who would be wanting to know this kind of thing so they could reassure the town that it was safe again. The big, bad killer had been caught, and the town could once again resume it’s normal life. The thought of it made him feel sick to his stomach. The town that he had grown up in and loved, had turned its back on him, and he certainly felt like the police had done the exact same thing. These people used to work with his father, and now they were in charge of putting his son in jail. 

Lifting his head up when Allen opened the door for him to proceed, he knew it was time to go. He could not stand the thought of seeing the looks on people’s faces when the husband of Katie Rivers was led out of the conference-style room in handcuffs. It was humiliating, and it was horrific to him that he would be in the position of having to defend himself against this kind of thing. Walking out when they directed him to, he swallowed the roll of nausea that was beginning to swirl. 

Trying to control the insane pounding of his heart, he allowed Allen to place a hand on his arm to guide him down the long hallways that separated the private meeting rooms from the actual jail part. The station had been rebuilt years ago as a result of private funding. 

Taking a deep breath, he tried to avoid looking at the other people that were in the lobby or (waiting area) of the police department. It was embarrassing, and while he knew that he had done  _ nothing _ to deserve being treated like this, the regular citizens out on the street, wouldn't.

In their minds, they trusted what their local police told them, and if they saw the husband being carted off in handcuffs, they would have the answer to a mystery that had haunted them from the time Katie had been murdered.

It didn't make any sense to him, and while he would have  _ loved _ to have told them the truth right there and then, he knew that wouldn't necessarily be allowed. Gritting his teeth, he was relieved when they reached the final stop in the jail, the part where he would be booked for the crime that he had allegedly committed.

Reynolds left them briefly to go start the paperwork that would be needed to make the arrest official. Caleb was glad. He couldn't stand being in the same  _ room _ with him, much less having him escort him to  _ jail _ .

Trying to make himself as comfortable as possible while he and Allen waited, he turned to the younger cop. He wasn't  _ so _ bad, and in a new life and world, he would have probably been friends with someone like him, but it was the feelings attached to the fact that he had caused his arrest, that partially stopped him from feeling too warm and fuzzy toward him.

Even though he wasn't as harsh as Reynolds, he was  _ still _ a cop and one that had refused to believe his story when it was the absolute truth, and when he would have sooner died himself than go after his wife and unborn child.

"Can you—can you loosen my cuffs?" Caleb asked quietly, as he looked at Allen.

It was an age-old excuse that suspects used when they were under arrest, and had to be placed in handcuffs, but for Caleb, he was absolutely serious when he made that request to Allen. The cuffs  _ hurt _ , and he knew that it wasn't because he had tried to get out of them, or had fought them in any way.

It was most likely Reynolds being overly cocky and placing them on too tight when the situation hadn't even called for it.

"Let me see," Allen said, as he performed a simple test of sliding one finger between his wrist and the cuff to determine whether or not they were  _ actually _ tight or not.

Not to his surprise, Caleb actually heard him click his tongue in disapproval of his partner.

"Are they too tight?" Caleb asked, as though he already knew the answer.

"Yeah. I'll loosen them. Just a fair warning, though. Normally, the cuffs are actually  _ more _ comfortable tight than loose, but I can do it."

"Thanks."

Allen loosened them, while also making sure not to give Caleb enough time to slide or wriggle his hands out. He knew that Reynolds liked to be a bully, someone who intimidated his suspects and made them crack, and while he was like that to a certain extent, he also didn't like himself actually sinking down to the point where he put the cuffs on too tight, and running the risk of causing actual  _ damage _ to the wrist itself.

"Does that feel better?" Allen asked, once he was done.

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, it does."

"Good."

"What's taking your partner so long?"

"Filling out paperwork, that kind of thing."

"Oh. Not that it's any of my business, but what's the deal with you guys? You seem halfway decent, and he just seems like a jerk."

Allen actually smiled, Caleb took that as a good sign.

"He likes to be the tough guy," Allen explained, "and with me, I just don't think bullying or intimidation is the right way to go. There's other means of getting answers without resorting to that."

"I know. My Dad used to be an officer here," Caleb remarked, wondering if Allen would recognize the name, or even the fact that the son of an officer was now being charged with murder.

" _ Seriously _ ? What was his name?"

"Dan Rivers. Ring a bell?"

"Yeah, it does actually."

"That was him."

"Wow."

"I know."

They didn't get much chance to talk after that. Fountain returned after completing the paperwork that was the first step in getting him integrated into the system. Standing up with difficulty, he followed Reynolds and Allen into the main processing and booking area.

"Don't try anything," Reynolds warned, as he took the cuffs off just long enough to allow him to be fingerprinted and photographed. "And while these are off, I need to see anything that I didn't catch when I patted you down."

"There isn't anything else," Caleb said, not even looking him in the eye.

"No other personal objects on you?" Reynolds prompted.

"I already said no."

"Okay," Allen said, stepping in when it was apparent that Caleb refused to deal with Reynolds any further. "We also need your shoes off and any belt that you may have on."

"Why the belt?" Caleb asked, somewhat joking as he complied with what he was saying.

"We don't want you hanging yourself," Allen said, accepting the belt and shoes that Caleb handed to him. "Okay, and now is when we do another search to make sure that there isn't anything else that may be concealed somewhere else."

"Great," Caleb said dryly, as he focused on the simple task of breathing.

It seemed to help him while he was under a lot of stress, and this was no different as he felt Allen do a more thorough search of him, grateful that it wasn't the Reynolds who was performing it.

"Alright, excellent," Allen said, once he had been assured of the fact that there wasn't anything else on him that they needed to be worried about. "Now I just need you to answer a few basic questions, okay?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah."

"Are you on drugs?"

"No," Caleb said, shaking his head.

At least that would be something they might feel more inclined to believe. Not that their opinions mattered much to him, but it might make the process go a little bit smoother.

"Are you homicidal?"

"No."

"Are you suicidal?"

"Absolutely not."

"Excellent."

Because of the fact that the jail was fairly quiet in the afternoon, and there weren't any other inmates to process at the moment, he was granted an almost immediate permanent cellblock unit to stay in. That fact did little to ease his fractured soul as he sank down into the hard, cement bed that he had been designated to sleep on, apart from the foam mattress that they gave him.

It was his new reality—one that he didn't deserve—and one that he had no choice but to accept for the time being. As he leaned foreword, putting his head in his hands, he let the tears that he had so bravely held back for so long, come out uninterrupted.

When he had first been arrested, he had been in a state of shock, not entirely believing what was happening to him. It was when he had finished being processed and then assigned to the cell, that it all slammed into him with the power and precision of a hurricane.

He missed Katie.

He missed the peaceful life they had together.

And he missed the promises of a happy future with their children by their side, that had been cruelly taking from him, and from Katie as well.

And now he was sitting in a jail cell, accused of murdering her and causing all of this to happen. It wasn't fair, and though he knew that didn't mean anything to the police who were desperate for answers, it meant  _ something _ to him (and to their respective family's who knew better).

Sleeping was an absolute impossibility, even though it would have granted him the peace that he had been craving since this nightmare had begun. Tossing and turning on the foam mattress, he drew the thin blanket around himself the best he could as he tried to let his mind wander to someplace peaceful, someplace that didn't have the confusion and the pain and the anger that he was currently feeling. There was no clock in the cell, only adding to the discomfort he was in. It could have been midnight, it could have been six in the morning and he wouldn't have noticed the difference.

Once the first rays of sun  _ did _ appear through the one, tiny window in the cell, he was relieved. Rolling over on his back, he waited for the guards to come by and allow him to eat breakfast, or to come and get him for his first meeting with whatever PD would be representing him.

Even though he had initially refused Jared's offer of contacting an attorney, he was glad that he had been willing to take his advice, and meet with Dawn Michaels. She had not been to see him yet, but he knew that would only be a matter of time. 

When the guards finally did come around to get him, he was relieved, even though he had to put up with the cuffs again, at least he was being granted some momentary freedom before being put back again.

Walking down the hall, he almost asked where they were going, but decided not to bother. His question would be answered soon enough, and then he would be able to get the show on the road.

When they stopped outside a small room, he was glad. It would give him more of a chance to speak with his PD one on one, and not through the impersonal setting of a glass-to-glass meeting like most prisoners had to become accustomed to.

Allowing the guard to lead him over to the seat he would be expected to sit in, he didn't fight it as he calmly waited for the new attorney to show their face.

Scratching something with difficulty on his arm, he waited for the person to show. This person, whoever he or she was, would be his only ticket to freedom, and possibly before a trial or any other proceedings even got started, if they played their cards right.

When the door finally swung open and the guard stepped outside to allow their meeting to be somewhat private, his mouth dropped open in a combination of both shock and fury.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. There's someone there that Caleb is NOT happy about seeing.


	10. Chapter 10

Caleb could hardly believe the audacity the man possessed as he boldly walked into the small room. No doubt to fill his mind with the lie that the supernatural existed. Not believing that he was facing Jim Murphy with no prospects for escape, he waited while the guard seated him at the table.

Once the guard left, Caleb still remained silent. He had no intention of being the first one to break the nasty silence that had fallen over the two of them. Looking at something on his cuffed hand, Caleb knew Jim was sussing him out, seeing if he wanted to be the one to start. He did not. Caleb had enough worries without being drawn into a ridiculous lie about evil.

Outside the small room he was encased in, he could hear the sound of the buzzer that was code for different things in the jail. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was almost time for the dinner hour. The inmates all ate dinner too early for his liking. It was just one of the many things that he was forced to get used to.

Jim Murphy was still looking at him, as though he thought that Caleb would show any other reaction than the steely silence that he was being met with. A part of him wanted to know how in the world Jim had gotten around the fact the police were looking for him for his illegal activity with looking through Katie' s case.

"Hello, Caleb," Jim said, once it was clear the other person had no intention of being the one to speak first.

"What are you doing here?" Caleb asked, even though he had a good idea.

Someone had told him that it was one of his friends. He didn't have many close pals, so that had automatically made him weary of whoever it might have been.

Jim sighed, staring at the table in front of him. "I heard the police made an arrest. Bobby and I, we were still in town."

"Your trucker friend?" Caleb prompted. At Jim's nod, he continued. "Is he the one who wanted to punch me out?"

Not that his attitude had been any better toward the strange man, who had all the fact of the persona Caleb had given to the man. Scratching something, he waited for Jim to say something.

"You weren't exactly...approachable, too, if I recall," Jim reminded him pointedly.

Caleb shook his head. "Yeah, well, after I heard about the stuff you were doing with my wife's case, I wasn't in the buddy type of mood."

Jim nodded. "Understandable." He studied the younger man intensely. "This may be a stupid question, but how are you?"

Caleb laughed sarcastically. "Doing great."

"I came here not just to check on you-"

Caleb already knew why Jim was there. It had taken him a minute to figure it out, but once he had, he was not surprised. He knew Jim would try to push his crazy idea that the supernatural was real. He had half a mind to call the guards back in to end the meeting, but something kept him in his chair.

"You came to tell me that big, scary things are real," Caleb interrupted mockingly. "Got it."

Jim momentarily appeared taken aback at the harshness to his voice, before he was able to shake it off. "Listen to me-"

"How are you even here? Weren't the cops looking for you?"

Jim smiled. "You'd be surprised what some cash will do for you."

Caleb shook his head. "Whatever. Just go. I don't need this from you. Not on top of all this other crap."

Jim's earlier smile vanished to be replaced with one of concern. The young man shook it off. He did not need or want his worry for him. He just wanted to be left alone.

"Caleb, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve what happened to you." Jim took a sip of water. "The police, they-"

"Messed a crapload up?" Caleb prompted.

"No. The police, they were simply doing their job. To them, it looked for all the world like you killed your wife."

Caleb understood where this speech was going. He was about to be slammed with a repeat of what he heard before from him.

"But it was some hairy monster?"

Jim did not reply. "I'm going to make a deal with you. A deal, which if you're smart, you will take. If you agree to hear me out, and by the end of it, you're still not on my side, I'll walk out the door, and you will not see me again."

Caleb sighed, palming his face. He could not believe he was putting himself in the spot of being a front row audience to the delusions of this man. "Fine."

Jim nodded, before standing up and going over to a small TV with a VCR. Intrigued, Caleb watched what he was doing. He was putting in a tape that Caleb soon saw, once the static cleared, was security film from a street near his construction firm.

"Do you remember anything unusual the day of the murder? Anything at all?"

Caleb shrugged. "I...remember spilling coffee on myself, and being cut off in traffic."

Jim shook his head with an amused smile. Caleb could not help but wonder where he got his endless patience. Moving in his seat when the metal dug into his back, he watched while Jim paused the tape.

"The thing that killed your wife...and also framed you for the exact same crime-"

"Is a big, scary monster with fangs?" Caleb pursed his lips. "Not very original, pastor."

Jim have him a look. "You promised to have an open mind with me."

Caleb sighed, not even believing he was being reprimanded by a guy who thought monsters were real. Turning to look at the video, he watched as Jim pressed the play button.

"So what is it that I'm looking at?"

The video showed a regular happening on the city street in his town. People were going to and from shops, some had kids with them. The darkened screen let him know that it was later at night. Leaning forward, he focused on the screen.

"Do you remember blacking out?" Jim asked, turning to look at him.

"No...why?" Caleb asked slowly.

"Watch."

His question was answered when he saw a man walk down the sidewalk. The man was very similar to someone he knew. Mouth dry, his eyes were transfixed at the sight in front of him. This man bore a striking resemblance to _him._ Almost as soon as the thought entered his mind, he rejected it. That could not be him on the CCTV footage. That could not be his body walking around because he had not been anywhere near that street at the time. 

"Is that supposed to be _me_?"

Jim nodded, but then he shook his head, before pausing the video. "This thing...this _monster_...it's called a shape-shifter. It takes the appearance of whoever it wants to hunt or frame. In this world, there are hundreds, perhaps even thousands of monsters, but this is the one that killed your wife."

"How-how do you know?"

"Because a shape-shifter is one of the only ones capable of taking on your exact appearance. It also manages to capture your thoughts and attributes down to a fine science. This is what it specializes in, you see. If Bobby and I are right in our thinking, it took on your appearance, and went to your house to do the deed."

Caleb's mind was still doing cartwheels; he could not believe what his mind was beginning to tell him was real. He had spent the last week trying to deny what the crazy people at Katie's visitation had told him. Now that he was faced with irrefutable proof that there might be truth to it, he was starting to feel as though his entire being was spinning out of control.

"How-" Caleb swallowed big. "How do you know so much about what you're trying to tell me?"

Jim inhaled a slow breath, and then exhaled. "Well, there's lots of ways this information can be passed down. Sometimes, it's given from generation to generation. Other times, people are forced into the life. People like you, and me, and even Bobby, were forced into it because of personal tragedy. You and Bobby lost your wives, and I lost my entire family due to it."

Caleb nodded. "Okay."

"Now," Jim said, as he finally turned off the video. "Do you believe me? As crazy as it sounds, as crazy as it is, do you finally believe me even the _smallest_ bit?"

Caleb sighed, looking down at his cuffed hands. "I-"

"I can help you," Jim promised him. "And not just by getting you out of that cell. Bobby and I can train you to fight these things, we can do more than that, actually. We can get you back on your feet, introduce you to other hunters so you can have a support system behind you."

"Why would you do _anything_ like that for me?" Caleb asked. "You don't know me from a hole in the wall, and you're offering to help me like this?"

"Because I was in your shoes once, Caleb. I understand what it feels like to be accused of something you didn't do, and not have anyone in the world believe you. I want you to know that you have people that understand what this is like, and they believe you, just like I do, and just like Bobby does."

"Even Bobby?" Caleb asked jokingly, as he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Jim said with a laugh. "Even Bobby."

"What about my family?"

After all, if this demon had gone after and killed his wife, what was stopping it from striking again? Only this time taking out his brother, and maybe even one of his in-laws.

"It's a kind of unspoken rule that we live by," Jim explained. "When we hunt like we do, we leave the people that are most vulnerable, wide open to being attacked again. For that reason, we don't normally forge connections to people who are not involved in the life in some way."

Caleb nodded, swallowing back the tears that he could almost feel coming to his eyes. "So if I agree to any of this-"

"You would have to not have any further connections with your brother, other than to maybe say goodbye in your own way."

"I just can't believe any of this," Caleb mused.

"I know the feeling, believe me, and I want you to know that you're not alone. You have a friend in me, Caleb."

"Thank you."

"Do you believe me?"

Caleb paused, mentally going back over everything that Jim had told him, and everything that he had seen on that impossible video.

"Yes."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. Caleb has found out about the supernatural in a not-so fun way. It had to come to him being forced to sit in a room with someone who cares for him, as odd as that sounds for Caleb, and show him the truth, before he finally believed it.


	11. Chapter 11

The supernatural was _real_.

Monsters and ghosts _did_ exist.

There were people out in the world who hunted them for a living. It was all the young man could do to keep his head screwed on straight. 

The monster that killed his wife, was also the one who had taken his form to do the dirty deed, thus framing him for her murder and putting him in the position that he was in now of defending his life against untrue accusations.

Caleb was sure that if his head hadn't been spinning _before_ Jim's impromptu visit, it was now, while he tried to process all the wealth of information that the hunter had bestowed upon him.

At first glance, Caleb had been ready to throw the book at him, demand that he leave and never bother him again, especially with the current situation that he was in of being thrown in jail for murder, and having to live with the fact that even the cops, people his father had taught him to trust with his life, had been somewhat responsible for putting him in the position he was in.

Now he was also having to live with the fact that the impossible was _real_ , and that he couldn't divulge any of that to any of the other prisoners, not that he talked to them much anyway. When he finally got out, he would have to say goodbye to his brother for his own protection, before leaving with Jim to start his new life of training and accumulating useful contacts to further aid him in his crusade that he didn't even know existed.

First, before any of his training began, he had to get out. That would be no easy feat to accomplish, and he fully realized that as the guards led him back to his cell after his meeting with his new "lawyer" had concluded.

Jim had an idea of what he would do to sway the investigation in their favor, but it was a tossup as to whether it would actually prove to be a success or not. He wasn't holding his breath, even though he wanted to desperately, anything that would help in escaping reality for just a few minutes while he sat alone in that bare cell, with the only thing to soothe him being the fact that he would be out soon regardless, it was just a matter of _when_.

The next morning was when he was allowed to start having visitors—apart from his legal team—and he was grateful for that. To no surprise, it turned out to be Jared that came to see him. In that instant, as he stared across at his brother, he only felt pity for him. He had no idea that he would soon have to leave him, have to abandon him for his own safety against a world that he had no inkling even existed.

Until that time came, however, he fully intended on making the _most_ of their time together. That was why he couldn't say goodbye. Not until he had his release secured.

"Hey, bro," Caleb said, forcing a smile on his face, though the faint _clinking_ sound the cuffs and waist chain made when he sat down, kind of put a damper on that effect.

It was obvious Jared noticed it too, and though he had always been the tough, slightly teasing older brother for as long as Caleb could remember anything, he saw how hard this was on him, especially seeing his little brother in chains like he was.

"How—how are you doing?" Jared asked, clearly struggling for the right words with which to approach him from.

This was _completely_ new territory for _all_ of them, and they were at a loss as to how to deal with it properly. The last thing Jared had honestly expected was to go into the station after Caleb had failed to return, only to find out that they had arrested him for Katie's death.

It was heartbreaking, especially when he knew the truth about their relationship better than anyone, and knew that what was being done to him, wasn't right and it wasn't fair.

"I honestly don't know," Caleb said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "I have good days, and then I have bad days where it's just all in my face, you know?"

Jared nodded. "I know, I mean I don't _know_ , but you know what I mean?"

Caleb smiled, nodding. "I do."

"What _happened_?" Jared asked, struggling to understand what would make the police arrest him, even if there _was_ evidence to back it up. There was no way that they could honestly suspect that he had murdered her when he had an alibi to back up his claims.

It made no sense to him.

"The blood test came back positive."

"Are you _kidding_?"

"No. They saw that as their smoking gun, and then we argued about it for a few minutes, and then they told me to stand up and they arrested me."

Jared shook his head in complete incredulity. "So what now?" he asked softly.

"Now I have to get through the next few weeks."

 _And years_ , he thought to himself. _Especially if I'm going to spend my life devoted to killing these things._

"With your arraignment?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have an attorney, or someone who can help you?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah."

Not that Jim's services were actually "legal" but he was the only prayer that Caleb had of getting out of that hellhole, and while he wouldn't be in the courtroom with him, in favor of promoting a new, legal one, he would be the driving force behind his eventual release.

"Is he or she any good?"

"Yeah," Caleb said, nodding. "I think so. It's only temporary, though, until I find a new one."

"Oh, okay. So it's a PD?"

"For now," Caleb said, nodding. "Yeah."

"Wow. I spoke to Katie's family."

"Seriously?" Caleb said, leaning foreword in his seat. "What did they say?"

"They are standing behind you. They believe the evidence that you have on your side, mainly the alibi."

"Good."

Maybe _that_ would serve to help him in the long run, if the victim's family actually believed in his innocence. He could only hope, and while that offered him little comfort now, he was hoping that something good would come out of this whole ordeal in some way or another.

"When is your arraignment?"

"Tomorrow."

Being hunters, Jim and Bobby had resources that would be able to get him out of jail if a bail amount was set. While it would be undoubtedly high for a guy who was accused of murder, it would be the one thing that he would need in order to get out, and flee the state.

"Wow," Jared said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I know. Do you have the picture I asked you to bring?"

In jail, inmates were only allowed few personal belongings from the outside world. One of those things that was on the approved list, were family pictures. One of the first requests that Caleb had made of his brother when he learned that he was coming to see him, was that he bring a wedding picture of he and Katie.

"I do," Jared said, as he carefully brought the picture out of his pocket. "Is this the one you wanted?"

Caleb nodded as he carefully took the picture from him, his eyes momentarily pinching with tears before he composed himself. It was a picture of he and Katie on their wedding day, right after their vows had been exchanged. The photo captured them in their first kiss.

"Thanks," he finally choked out.

"No problem, man."

Caleb was silent for a few moments as he silently stared at the photograph in his possession. He couldn't believe that so much had changed in the three years since he had recited those traditional vows, and had sealed it with a kiss. It was amazing that she could be at the peak of her life, and then for it all to be stolen by the heartless actions of one person—or monster.

"Allen said that they tested the blood twice. How is that even possible, then, that my blood was on it?"

"I don't know," Jared said. "Who's Allen?"

"He's the one that—that-"

"That arrested you?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah. He said that their department tested the blood results _twice_ , and it came up the same every time."

"Maybe someone did this."

"What do you mean?" Caleb asked, his heart rate spiking in direct response to what his brother was saying, as though he _knew_ the real truth behind the murder.

"Maybe someone set you up to take the fall for this."

"How is that possible, though?" Caleb asked skeptically, feeling bad for lying to his brother like this, but also not having much of a choice if he wanted to keep him alive.

"I don't know, but maybe it's something that someone needs to look into."

"Maybe, but where are we going to find the money to hire a private investigator?"

"Somewhere?" Jared supplied. "I don't know."

"I don't either."

Not that hiring a PI would do any good—not when the police were all but certain who had killed Katie, and would testify to that in court, and when his arraignment was upon them. His only salvation was that he would soon be able to get out regardless with Jim's help.

* * *

It had been nice to have the visit from Jared, and have the picture of he and Katie to keep with him in his cell, and while that did little to ease the pain of the current situation he had found himself in, it helped in that he had something physical to remind him of he and Katie's love for each other.

Lying on his back on his cold and impersonal bunk, he looked over at the one, small slit in the wall that passed for a window. It was almost dark. Somehow, an entire day had passed without him being none the wiser to the gradual passage of time.

The visit with Jared had helped ease the near constant anxiety and pain that he had found himself in since Fountain and Springer had arrested him. Now he only had the arraignment to worry about, and the fact that Jim was planning an escape for him if things didn't pan out the way they wanted it to.

When he had asked what the plan entailed, he would only tell him that he and Bobby were working on something. That didn't ease the nervousness that Caleb felt, just the opposite, actually. The last thing he needed was to be found again and carted back off to jail.

Turning over on his side, he was just about to try to reclaim some lost sleep, when the guard appeared at his cell door. He had quickly learned that if he treated the guards like human beings, they would return the same favor, and he would do anything if it meant making this process go that much smoother for him.

"You have a visitor that wants to see you," the guard explained.

"Okay," Caleb said, as he held out his hands for the guard to cuff them.

"Turn around," the guard instructed.

Sighing, Caleb complied as the guard fastened the waist chain around his waist, before finally being allowed to leave the confines of his cell. Walking down the hall with the guard, he was curious as to who it was, not that he harbored any doubt really.

When they turned into the same room that had been used for his meetings with people so far, he wasn't surprised to see Jim sitting at the table, waiting for him. Waiting until the guard had left, Caleb took a seat across the table from him.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," Jim said, smiling softly. "Your arraignment is coming up tomorrow."

"I know." Caleb tried not to get his hopes up that anything would happen in his favor. 

"I talked to Bobby, and we have a sort of tentative plan in motion for what's going to happen if the case continues much further."

"What's that?" Caleb asked, as he scratched something behind his ear.

Jim paused. "I...I destroyed some of the evidence against you."

Caleb had a hard time controlling his reaction to that news, as his mouth opened in shock. "You did _what_?"

"I destroyed some of the evidence against you."

Doing that not only meant that the prosecution had next to _nothing_ to go on, but that the entire case the cops had built against him, was obliterated by the removal of that crucial crutch that had assisted them all that time.

"What evidence? And _how_?"

Not that he knew anything about the secret world of hunters, and how they operated on a daily basis, but the fact that it had seemingly been _easy_ for Jim to break into the station and destroy evidence, was one trick that he knew he wouldn't mind learning for future use.

"The blood evidence," Jim said, watching him carefully for his reaction. "That's their only _real_ case against you right now. If you go to court, and they don't have that, I don't see the judge furthering the case."

"Because-"

"Because you have a solid alibi with people seeing you right _before_ the murder actually happened, and without the prosecution's smoking gun, they won't have anything to go on. They haven't even proven a motive yet, have they?"

Caleb shook his head. "No."

It was laughable to him that the police had never actually zeroed in on a motive for why he would allegedly go to all the trouble of pretending that he was at work, while really traveling across town to murder his pregnant wife.

A murder case like that, especially one that was against the son of a former, well-respected member of their team, had to have a strong motive to back up their claim. Without it, the case meant next to nothing, and now without the blood evidence to assist them, the case was dead.

"Well, they shot themselves in the foot with that one," Jim said, shaking his head in amusement.

"Are you going to be in court tomorrow?" Caleb asked uncertainly, as though he was seriously entertaining that possibility.

"No. I don't want to chance messing up your case, if and when they ever find out my real identity. I have a few suggestions for you, though, that you may want to look into."

"Okay."

Waiting for him to give him his list, Caleb adjusted his position in the chair. It was hard to move, or even walk, when he had not only the handcuffs but the waist chain that prevented much movement other than the rudimentary walking skills that he knew by heart.

It was only another reminder of the current predicament he had found himself in, and while he would have loved to have been able to walk freely without the restraints, it was something that was out of the question, especially with his status as an accused "murderer."

"Here are some names," Jim said, finally writing down the people that he thought stood a chance of helping Caleb if, by some out there impossibility, the case continued.

Caleb nodded. "I already have an attorney." 

Jim appeared surprised by that information. "Who is it?"

"Dawn. Dawn Michaels."

He had barely gotten the chance to get to know his new attorney before he had been arrested. She had been to the jail to see him since his arrest, and had promises to do everything in her power to secure his release. Having her confident assurance meant the world to him.

"She was actually one of the people I was going to suggest," Jim said, nodding his head. "She's good."

* * *

"How do you wish to plead?" the judge asked, directing his gaze onto him.

"Not guilty, Your Honor," Caleb said, feeling a certain relief when he said those words, that if all went in his favor, he would be able to get bail, especially if the prosecution didn't have a crucial part of their evidence to present to the judge.

"Your Honor," Dawn said, beginning to address the court as to the issue of whether or not he would be allowed bail or not. "My client has no prior arrests, has had gainful employment for the past few years at Hardy's Construction company, and I wanted to ask the court to consider granting my client bail."

Caleb waited with bated breath while the judge considered the issue that Dawn had rose.

"Does the State have any objections to this?"

Not surprisingly, they did, but there was little they could do to mount an effective argument when, even they admitted, they had lost some of their evidence. It was hard to hide the smile that was on the edge of his mouth when he heard them scrambling for a reason as to why their office had lost such a crucial piece of their evidence.

"Bail is granted at ten thousand dollars."

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

It was hard to accurately describe the different and complex emotions that Caleb was feeling as he heard the judge say that bail was actually _granted_ at ten thousand dollars. It was an unusually high amount, but that was no surprise to him, especially with his status as a murderer, someone who was supposed to be dangerous.

When he mentally questioned _why_ he had been allowed bail, the first thing that came to mind was that he had no prior criminal record, and maybe the fact that he was the son of a former, well-respected police officer. He knew that couldn't have made things any worse on him in the end, and even though the exultation on his face was clear for everyone to see, the issue of where they would get that kind of money to bail him out, was another matter altogether.

And until that time happened, when either his brother or Jim or Bobby was able to come up with the ten percent needed to get him out, he had to go back to the cell. It wasn't altogether depressing when he was reminded of the fact that, sooner or later, he would be released, but it was still slightly upsetting when the guard snapped the first cuff on Caleb's wrist, signaling in the way that words couldn't, that it was time to go.

Sighing deeply, he stood as he allowed the guard to cuff his other hand behind him. Looking out at the galley of people that had assembled for his arraignment, he tried to look past the sea of faces that weren't immediately familiar to him, but almost wished that he had stayed there, because when he saw his brother visibly struggle to compose himself, it was all he could do not to push the guards away and go over to him.

Swallowing back thickly, he kept walking. The courthouse wasn't too far from the jail, and while he tried to take comfort in that, it was hard when he knew where he would be going back to until someone came up with the money to bail him out.

Leaning his head back against the hard plastic of the police car seat, he looked out at the town that he used to love, and at all the people that used to be his friends, people who now viewed him, no doubt, as a murderer, someone capable of murdering his pregnant wife in cold blood.

There was nothing he could do to change their perceptions either way. What was done, was done, and the only thing he had going for him was the realization that he had the truth on his side, and he had the knowledge that he wouldn't have to put up with being treated like a criminal much longer.

When the police car rolled into the underground parking garage, letting him know that he was back to his temporary home, he sighed. The cell was okay, there was some reading material now, thanks to his brother generously donating to his commissary account, but it wasn't like home, and it wasn't even like sleeping in a somewhat comfortable bed.

He still had to accept it until he could finally be granted freedom from that place. Scooting himself foreword as much as he dared, he let the police officer guide him the rest of the way out as he handed him off to an unsympathetic corrections officer who was waiting to ferry him back to his cell.

The walk wasn't too long, and then he was able to get out of the cuffs that had been restraining him, and sink down into his bunk. He was grateful that he didn't have to put up with the stresses of having a roommate, something that some of the other prisoners there had to put up with.

Lying back against the hard pillow, he reached for one of the few books he had actually wanted, and started reading. It did wonders to soothe his mind, and actually allowed him to disappear into another world, another lifetime where the characters in the story were happy and the conflict that arose in the story, was something fascinating and interesting, other than depressing and scary, something that he dealt with on a fairly regular basis.

And it also helped in putting his troubled mind to sleep for a few hours, something that he definitely wouldn't fight against as he finally put the book down and pulled the blankets up higher around himself, trying to obtain the comfort that would come with escaping from reality for a few, precious hours.

Turning over on his side in the most comfortable sleep position he knew, he tried to lose himself in that for a little while, trying _not_ to think about the arraignment, and even though it had gone somewhat in his favor, there was still the issue of where he or Jim would find the money to bail him out of that hellhole so they could begin planning their next move.

Not surprisingly, sleep failed to arrive to him for several hours after the fact. It was a night spent of pointless tossing and turning, and nothing helped until his body was good and ready to let him go from its cruel clutches.

When the first, faint rays of morning light shone through the one small window in the cell, he was almost relieved that he wouldn't have to keep struggling for sleep when the option would be taken right out of his hands regardless.

The guards came around first thing to allow the prisoners to walk down the thin hall to grab their breakfast trays, before being escorted back to their cells. He knew that some inmates were allowed out in the cafeteria to socialize with each other, but apparently that wasn't an option given to accused killers.

After the breakfast hour, was typically when visitors were allowed to come and see their incarcerated family and friends. He waited patiently for either his brother, one of the guys or Dawn to come and see him.

When he finally _did_ get a visitor, and the guards came back to get him for the meeting, he had a hard time containing the eagerness that he felt at getting out of that solitary cell, and more importantly, finding out the status of his release from either his attorney, or Jim.

When the door to the meeting room was finally opened, and he saw Jim sitting there, he was relieved. Even though he had initially viewed the kindly man sitting before him, with barely concealed hatred and anger, he had come to view him as a lifeline to the outside world, and the promise of a new future, that while he had never asked for, would have no choice but to embrace.

Waiting until the guards had left the room so that they could have some much needed privacy, Caleb sighed as he tried to formulate the words needed to word his questions to the veteran hunter. There was so much he needed to learn still, and so little time to learn it. It was dizzying when he thought of everything that had happened to him recently, and the issues that were still assaulting his senses, his mind, and the fallout from his arrest.

"Hi," Jim said, finally deciding to take it upon himself to break the awkward silence between the two of them. "Your arraignment went fairly well."

"It did," Caleb agreed with a slight yawn.

Jim noticed, and though he was obviously a master at controlling his reactions, it was clear that he felt sorry for the young man who's entire life had been thrown into shambles as a direct result of the evil that he hunted on a daily basis.

"Didn't sleep good?"

"No. I never really do anymore," Caleb said.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine—not your fault."

"What did you think of Dawn?"

Dawn was the new attorney that Caleb had hired as a sort of "safeguard" if things didn't necessarily go his way in terms of escaping from the jail, and going on his new life. During the crucial hearing that had determined his bail amount, he had been greatly impressed with her knowledge, her intelligence when it concerned the twisted ins and outs of the legal world, and he liked her attitude.

"I liked her," he finally said. "She was really great."

"Yeah, she is."

"So what's the status with the bail money?" Caleb asked, voicing the question that had been on the tip of his tongue to ask, since he had first sat down with Jim.

"It's getting there," Jim assured him. "We're talking to a bondsman, and Bobby has some resources that he can dive into if we need it."

"Thank you."

"Of _course_ ," Jim said, as though it was the most obvious and natural thing in the world to be forking over thousands of dollars to someone that he barely knew. "When is the next hearing in the case?"

"I don't know yet. I'm supposed to hear from her about it soon."

"Okay."

Not that he planned on sticking around any longer than he had to once he got out, but he wanted to be kept up to speed on all matters related to his legal case, and while he knew that Dawn was working her butt off to bring it to a peaceful resolution, it still worried him when he was reminded of how powerful the justice system was.

"What are you thinking about?" Jim asked, catching the pensive look on his friend's face.

"Everything," Caleb said with a scoff.

"I bet."

While he would have loved to have broken his friend out of jail, and bring him back to Minnesota where he lived, so that they could start training, he knew that it would be more practical to wait until he had bailed out before they made the jump to the next phase in their training.

"Does the prosecution suspect that you were the one who destroyed the evidence?" Caleb asked.

"Not yet. I think they have their suspicions, but they have no proof to back up what they'll say, if they even say it at all."

"Right."

* * *

The day finally came that the bail amount went through. It had been weeks of legal wrangling and bugging of various bondsmen in the area before the amount due was finally put up. It was a welcome relief to Caleb, who had spent the last two weeks locked up in the tiny confines of the cell, and while he knew that the day would eventually come, it had seemed like it would never end for him, and while he was glad to be out and back in the "real" world, it was what would come next that he was having the most problems with.

He would have to face the choice of either sticking around the area while he waited for the conclusion of his legal case, with the high probability being that the case would be thrown out due to a blatant lack of evidence, or he could jump the gun and go with Jim back to Minnesota to start his new life, one that he kept having second thoughts about, no matter how much he tried to convince himself, or put himself in the right frame of mind to accept it.

Immediately after his release, he had gone back to his brother's. It was the safest place that he could think of to stay at while he contemplated the impossible choices ahead of him. Pacing had always been a friend to him in times of stress, and that was never more true now as he walked in circles around his bedroom, thinking over his life in that town, and how it had all been so wonderful up until just a few weeks previously when Katie had died.

If he could be sure of his brother's continued safety if he stuck around, he would probably be content to stay put and let the professionals do the monster wrangling, but he couldn't. That had already been proven when the shape-shifter, or whatever it was, had broken into his home and murdered his wife.

What was to stop the same thing from coming back and finishing his _brother_ off?

It was with that horrific thought running through his mind that he smoothly got down under the bed that he had been staying in, and fished out the ratty duffel bag that he had packed his meager supply of belongings into.

The antique dresser that had belonged to either their grandparents, or their great-grandparents, housed all of the clothes that he had been able to fish out of their house, when he had had the courage to go back inside after the police had cleared it of evidence.

It was hard to believe that he was consciously making the decision to not only leave the _one_ town that he had _ever_ known to go fight evil, but that he was doing it with the knowledge that he would have to not have any further contact with his brother for his own safety.

"Are you going somewhere?"

He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, and packing his things, that he hadn't realized that Jared had been standing in the doorway, probably watching him for awhile now, and only just now deciding to interrupt the silence that Caleb had been basking in before everything went to hell.

"Uh, yeah."

How was he supposed to tell his brother that he was going, and that chances were, he wouldn't be able to see him again? It was horrible, and in that instant, he hated the supernatural for taking everything from him, and he even hated Jim and Bobby for telling him he had to make this choice.

"Okay...where are you going?" Jared asked, as he leaned against the doorway, trying to make sense of what his brother was doing, and why he was suddenly leaving right in the middle of his legal case.

"Somewhere," Caleb replied.

"Dude, seriously!" Jared said. "I'm the older one, I'm supposed to be the one who keeps cryptic secrets. Not the other way around."

"Look," Caleb said, as he finally finished packing his things. "I appreciate everything that you have done for me the last few weeks. I really do, and I won't ever forget it, either."

"You're scaring me," Jared said. "What's going on?"

"Don't be scared," Caleb said, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder, trying to blink back the tears that he could feel coming on. "I love you. I can't tell you where I'm going, but I'm going to be fine, and you are too."

At least he could promise his brother that. If he was out of his life, the supernatural would have no reason for coming back to their town and harming anyone else again. For some reason, it had gone after him, and though he would never be able to make sense of that, at least he would be securing his brother's safety.

"Why do you have to go?" Jared asked.

"I just do. I can't—I can't promise that I'll be back. I probably won't, actually, but I love you and you will always be my annoying !@#$%^&* big brother."

"Is this about the case? Are you leaving because of that?"

"I—I can't tell you why," Caleb said. "All I can say is that I love you, if I can call you, I will. In the meantime, find some girl that loves you, and can put up with your crap, and be happy for once. Mom and Dad," he said, knowing how much Jared had struggled with their parent's deaths. "Would want you to find someone."

"I-"

"I'll see you around."

With that, Caleb swung his bag over his shoulder and walked past him out of the bedroom. It felt like his heart was breaking all over again as he walked down the stairs, and out of the house that had been a refuge to him in the last few weeks, and while his brother would never be able to understand the reason for why he had to leave, he hoped that he would on some level, know that he loved him and would never, for as long as he lived, forget about him.

Jim had given him the address of the motel that he and Bobby were staying at, and while the last thing he felt like doing, was going to spend his time with the people that had caused him to say goodbye to his brother, he had no other choice if he wanted to survive in a world like this.

Driving alone in his car, he scrubbed a hand over his face as he fought back to his final conversation with his brother. The confusion and even the hurt on his face, had been enough to nearly undo him from his intended course right there, but he had held firm and had done the one action that had probably saved him from future hurt.

When he pulled into the near vacant parking lot of the motel, he paused in his actions as he looked back at the small stash of supplies that he had brought with him. It didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things, but it was the only lifeline he had to his old life, and the one that he was destined to start now.

Walking up the steps to reach their room on the second floor, he hesitated only a second before knocking. He could hear some movement behind the door, and what sounded like Bobby's rough voice, before the door opened.

"Hey," Caleb said, looking at Bobby's face. "Is there a secret password or something? Or can I just come in?"

"Is that all your stuff?" Bobby asked, by way of greeting as he stood aside to let Caleb in.

"Most of it. What I can carry in this bag. The rest," he shrugged, as he dumped it on the one table in the room. "I can replace."

"Well," Jim said, "we have a long drive ahead of us. Are you going to follow?"

Caleb nodded. "I'm not leaving my car."

"Okay, we better get going, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caleb has now officially left his brother and the life that he used to have, and has now graduated full time to a life of training and hunting.


	13. Chapter 13

As he dragged his meager supply of belongings down the few flight of steps that led from the motel room to his car, he questioned, once again, the sanity of making such a huge decision right on the heels of his wife passing away so tragically. Didn't every grief counselor there was, advise against making such huge choices during the first year? He was jumping it by several months, and while he knew that he didn't have a choice when he had knowledge of things that most therapists wouldn't even _dream_ about, it was still something that gave him cause to stop and think.

The slamming of the trunk door— _his_ trunk door—brought his attention back to reality as he looked at his hand, not even consciously aware that he had moved to close it. Further proof that his body, which had always been so active and alert, was functioning purely on autopilot as he moved around the car to slide into the drivers seat.

Bobby and Jim wanted to get a head start on driving so they could reach home within a reasonable period of time, and while Caleb agreed wholeheartedly with their plan, he was also still trying to let the enormousness of his new reality, sink into his fragmented soul.

It didn't seem possible that he had everything that he could have ever wanted in life: a wife, first and foremost, and then a good job and a house, and the absolute icing on the cake was their baby that they had been wanting to have so desperately and for so long, and were starting to fear that it would never happen, and then it had all been stripped from him like a pull of a bandaide.

Gone.

Rip cord.

Instead of picking out colors for the nursery, he was now gearing up to go on the next phase of his life in Minnesota to train, to learn how to seek out the supernatural before it sought _him_ out, and also having to face the hard truth that he couldn't have any further connections with that town, not unless he counted Dawn, who by some stroke of a miracle, had an office in Minnesota that she was planning on moving full-time to, anyway.

But even as he watched Bobby and Jim walk down the steps of the motel and climb into their shared car, he couldn't escape the giant hole that was tugging incessantly at his heartstrings as he put his car into drive and followed them out of the near vacant parking lot, down the condensed town roads, and finally onto the more liberating freeway.

Saying his goodbyes to Jared had been one of the hardest things about accepting this new life, and moving on. It had gutted him to have to watch his brother's face as he prepared to walk out of his life, and leave him without any further family to lean on.

The only prayer he had was that his brother would finally overcome their parent's deaths, and find a good woman that would love him for all his quirks and charms, and fall in love with the wonderful man that he was underneath the bravado and the quick teases.

Scrubbing a hand over his eyes at the unfairness of it all, he tried to avoid crying while he was driving. That would only hinder his ability to see, and then he would have to pull over, and then he would only be delayed in proceeding with the inevitable as he carefully kept watch on their car so he wouldn't lose sight of it among the throng of other cars jockeying for a good position in the early evening rush hour.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he tried to imagine something positive coming out of this, and couldn't. What would be gained by devoting his life to fighting a secret world of ghosts and monsters? Maybe, at the very least, a temporary high of adrenaline, and if he was lucky, the indescribable feeling of saving another life, but was he really cut out to do this as a _living_?

It was a question that he knew he would have to wait to answer until he had gotten himself more integrated into the life that Jim and Bobby seemed so comfortable in, like it was nothing to waltz into a police station and steal confidential files related to an ongoing murder investigation.

It was that part of the life that Caleb had the most trouble accepting. His first foray into that side of the law that his father had been a member of, was something he would gladly forget if he could. The powerless feeling of being handcuffed behind the back, being booked and processed while he had to deal with an overzealous police officer, and a partner that looked like a lost deer in the headlights next to his overbearing partner.

Caleb definitely hadn't relished that feeling of being locked solitary in a jail cell while awaiting whatever courtroom crap he would have to endure next. It all stemmed from that one supernatural creature, the shape-shifter, doing the heinous deed of killing his pregnant wife, using his form, and then planting his blood all over the knife that had been used in the attack, thus framing him, and thus giving Springer and Fountain more than enough ammo with which to to confront and ultimately arrest him with.

If all hunting would do, was bring about those same results of having to suffer through more jail time, he wasn't even sure he wanted it anymore, as if he did before. It wasn't right that the law felt like it had the right, the audacity to push him around as though they knew him, as though they could see right through to his soul, and know for a _fact_ that he had done the crimes that they were speaking of.

He hated it.

Sighing in relief when Bobby and Jim finally pulled off into a rest area, he followed closely behind. The drive would take them close to twelve hours if they hurried, and that was factoring in the traffic that would gradually thin out as the evening progressed.

He didn't want to stop.

He would rather just keep going, and then deal with the fallout of such a strenuous trip later on. Right then, though, he needed some amount of caffeine if he was to entertain the idea of driving through the night. Walking up to the counter that separated the people from the customers, he placed his order, and made sure that they knew to put in extra loads of cream and sugar to further satisfy the ever encroaching exhaustion he could feel settling in.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw Jim and Bobby finally walk in, having no doubt been discussing their planned strategy for the rest of the evening. Giving them a greeting by way of a single raise of an eyebrow, he waited for his order to be completed, while tapping his fingers on the counter.

"So what's the plan?" Caleb asked, as he turned his head to look at the two hunters next to him.

"We'll keep going," Jim said, "he and I can switch off on driving. Are _you_ okay, though?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah. Just as soon as I get my caffeine, I'm good to go."

"Okay."

He had driven for long stretches of time in the past, for family trips and other work requirements that he sometimes had to do. It beat stopping, especially with how uncertain his new life promised to be, and if Jim and Bobby were right in saying that the supernatural had a bizarre way of finding someone they wanted found.

Once he finally got his coffee, he eagerly inhaled as much of it as he could without burning his throat. It was just the thing that would satisfy that part of him that was growing more and more exhausted as the evening hours approached them.

Standing back while he watched them fulfill a similar order, he looked at the time above the counter and saw that it was nearly nine. It took close to twelve or thirteen hours to get to Minnesota, and while he knew that if they hurried, they could beat that time in half, it was a daunting prospect.

"So how far into Minnesota do you live?" Caleb asked, as he and Bobby and Jim turned and headed back out into the somewhat warm night.

"Not too far. Blue Earth," Jim replied, as he started turning toward the shared car he and Bobby were in.

"Never heard of it," Caleb said, as he swung his car keys around his finger before getting into the car, and starting it up. "What about you?" he asked, looking over at Bobby.

So far he and the older hunter had shared minimal contact with each other—and he was trying to make himself more integrated into his life, as well. It was slightly intimidating when he had all the tact of a truck driver, but he had dealt with worse before.

"I don't live in Minnesota. I live in South Dakota."

"Oh."

Finally slamming his car door shut, he got back on the road with the guys. It was disappointing that they still had a ways to go, but he was also relieved that they seemed to be making steady progress, even though the night wore on without an ending in sight, and though he tried to save up as much of the caffeine as he could, even that eventually was sucked dry as he scrubbed a tired hand through his eyes, trying to induce as much awareness in himself as he possibly could.

His father had always taught him to never drive when he was so tired that he could barely see the road, but the last thing he felt like doing was pulling over. It was dangerous (and stupid) he knew, but he had enough confidence in his abilities to remain steady as they neared the state of his new home.

Even though it took hours, they eventually made it just as the sun was starting to show its first, feeble rays of life over the distant horizon. Groaning in relief, he followed Jim and Bobby the rest of the way into the unfamiliar towns and cities that they passed through on their way to Blue Earth.

Minnesota had always been one of the places that he and his family had wanted to visit, but had never gotten the chance before. It was nice that it was happening for him now, but he wished the circumstances were different as they finally rolled through the quaint town of Blue Earth. It was smaller than the other, larger ones they had passed, and while it looked like a nice place to raise a family, and even hide out from the various evil, he knew too much to feel completely safe anymore.

The neighborhood that Jim lived in, was larger. It was on one of the upper-class streets, and while his house was by no means the largest or the grandest, it still looked like it could comfortably fit several people at once without it being a problem, as he popped open the lid of his trunk and extracted all of his luggage.

It was weird how all of his property fit into that single duffel bag without it being a problem. The clothes had been the most important for him, everything else material wise, he could live without until he had replaced it with something else.

"This is it," Jim said, as though he needed to explain that, but it was obvious that he was starting to wonder what to do next, now that he had safely gotten his new friend to a safe place.

"It's nice," Caleb said, nodding. "Am I gonna find any dungeons or potion rooms in there?" he asked, only halfway joking as the three of them walked up the stone pathway to the front door.

"No," Jim said with a laugh. "None of that. Although, there _is_ a place in the basement that we, or I, keep most of my weapons for when I go out."

"Gotcha. In case the cops come looking..."

"Exactly."

Inside, the house was spacious. A large family room played host to a nice size TV, ample seating arrangements, and the kitchen was even larger with enough room to comfortably cook while entertaining other people and guests.

When Jim directed him to follow him upstairs, he didn't hesitate. He knew that whatever room he stayed in, would be like a getaway for him while he silently learned to process everything that had happened in the last few weeks.

"This is your room," Jim said, opening the door and flipping on the light. "There's a few other bedrooms, too, in case you want to move. Bobby's staying in that one," he explained, gesturing to the door right across from him. "And I'm staying in the one down the hall."

"I don't know," Caleb said jokingly. "Me, right across from Bobby? Sure he won't slaughter me in my sleep?"

"He's not that bad," Jim assured him. "You just have to get to know him a little better."

"Yeah, I know. So what do you do for a living? I mean, besides the hunting part?"

"I work as a pastor in the church here."

"You _do_?" Caleb said, stopping in his tracks as he followed him back downstairs. "That was kind of the _last_ job I would expect from-"

"From someone who kills demons and burns bones in his spare time?" Jim said, looking back at him for his reaction. "I get that a lot from other people in the same boat."

"Yeah, I mean, it's nice, just a little surprising."

"Well, when your father was a pastor and you always felt that feeling of expectation your entire life, you kind of feel pressured to go into the same thing. As it turns out? I have a thing for understanding people, and connecting with them on a deeper level, and so it works for me."

"My Dad was a police officer," Caleb said, shaking his head in amusement. "Kind of ironic when you consider all the hell I've been put through with those people, but it's true."

"Would you have gone into that life had you not been arrested by them?" Jim asked, as he allowed Bobby to pass around the beer.

"Not really," Caleb said. "I went to the academy to train, but it never caught my interest. I think my Mom was relieved," he said with a laugh, "but I don't know about my dad. He acted like it was no big deal that I quit."

It had been one of the first decisions that he had ever made for himself as someone just reaching the legal age of adulthood, and while he had tried to find the same passion and love for the force that his father felt, he was never quite able to find the same love for it that his dad did.

"So have you have ever shot a gun before?" Bobby asked, clearly over the idle chit-chat, and was thinking more along the lines of training, which was something that Caleb wouldn't mind getting his hands dirty with just for the sole reason being that it would serve as a form of distraction to him.

"Yeah, but that was years ago," Caleb explained. "When my Dad used to take all of us to the shooting range to "defend" ourselves."

"So you need a refresher course," Jim surmised. "That won't be a problem. He and I both have shooting ranges out back at our homes."

"Awesome."

* * *

The air was windy as Caleb and Bobby and Jim stepped out back to the empty field behind the house that contained the shooting range. It was an ideal practice platform, and one he intended on utilizing as much as humanly possible while he was still in the beginning stages of his training.

The back field contained various targets that had been set up at different angles and different degrees of difficulty for someone to practice their own, unique skill level at. Caleb was glad for that as he stepped up to the one that was set up as medium to difficult. Even though he had shot off guns with his father and brother, it had been awhile since he had learned the ropes, and would definitely need a reminder or two.

"Okay," Bobby said, "you need me to teach you how to load and unload?"

"I think I got that part," Caleb said. "Just need to warm up is all."

Accepting the handgun that Bobby handed over to him, he considered the weight of it in his hands before he carefully aimed it at the target about ten to twenty feet ahead of him. It had been awhile since he had done this, but the incomparable feeling of power was all coming back to him as he pressed down on the trigger, timing the pulls like he had been taught.

The deafening blast of the shot, and the powerful recoil on this one, was something that Caleb hadn't anticipated as he took a second to recover from the messy shot. The bullet had barely grazed the target, and while he was frustrated at his own self for ruining the shot at the last second, he quickly aimed it back for another go, this time more prepared for the recoil.

"Good," Bobby said, when the bullet got right near the target.

"Thanks," Caleb said, sparing him a glance.

It had definitely gone better than the last time, and he tried to remember that. It had been fun, but exhausting work and he was more than ready to go back inside and hopefully catch up on some of the lost sleep that he had been trying to reclaim.

"You did good," Bobby said with a shrug as they walked back inside. "You just need some pointers."

"I know."

"Hey," Bobby said, as an afterthought. "Do you have any aversion to tattoos?"

"Why?" Caleb asked, as they walked through the house and into the family room.

"There are special tattoos that some of us use to ward off possession. It's not entirely foolproof, I suppose, but the hunters that I've spoken with, haven't had any further issues."

"I guess," Caleb said.

"You'll do it?"

"Sure."

"Just let me know when you want me to do it," Bobby said with a smirk, knowing full well how Caleb would feel about him coming anywhere near him with a needle.

"You—you're going to do it?" Caleb sputtered.

"Have to. I'm the only one who knows how." 


	14. Chapter 14

Caleb couldn't believe the words that came out of Bobby's mouth as they walked into the house, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to pick up a needle and give someone a tattoo, especially someone that he had never been particularly warm toward.

It definitely gave Caleb a seconds worth of hesitation as he sat down at the kitchen table where Bobby would be performing the procedure. Although he had never been opposed to tattoos, he had never had the chance to get one, or a good reason, and while getting one to ward off possible possession was as good a reason as any, he couldn't believe that Bobby, out of all the other hunters that they probably knew, was the _only_ one who knew how to draw that particular design on someone's skin, and then needle it in there permanently.

Swallowing back the lump that had come to rest in the back of his throat, he rolled up the short sleeve shirt that he was wearing, and gestured wordlessly to Bobby where he wanted it placed. He couldn't have spoken even if he had _wanted_ to. The idea of someone he barely knew, coming near him with a needle, was just the slightest bit terrifying as he watched Bobby carefully sterilize the equipment that he would use to make the design.

"Where do you want it?" Bobby asked, once he had finished dousing the equipment in the autoclave machine that he had obtained from one of the many times he had spent in the hospital, impersonating some government official or another.

"Upper arm," Caleb said, his voice tight, carefully controlled as he watched Bobby bring the tray of colors and needles over to where he was going to perform it. "Are you _sure_ you know what you're doing?"

"No. I'm just going to stab you in the arm with this needle, and hope for the best," Bobby said, rolling his eyes. "Give me a break, idjit."

"Considering our very _limited_ history together," Caleb said, "where you almost punched me in the face, I think I have more than enough cause to be concerned."

"That was because you were all up on your high horse because-"

"Because you and Jim broke into my wife's _viewing_ , if I recall correctly."

"For a good reason," Bobby reminded him. "And now that you know, you can understand, right?"

"I guess," Caleb admitted, "but the idea of you, no offense, giving me this tattoo, is just a little bit unsettling."

"You're a hunter now," Bobby said. "You have to let go of some of your hang-ups, and learn to let some things go. I'm not going to hurt you with this needle, I'm just going to put the design in, and hope for the best, and by that I mean, I hope it works to fight off the demons."

Caleb nodded, taking a deep breath as he gripped the edge of the table with his other hand, while trying to keep the one that Bobby would be using, perfectly still and calm, even though he could feel his nerves tense, as though anticipating what was going to happen, and reacting the same way that he _felt_ as he swallowed back roughly.

When he saw Bobby pick up the sterilization equipment again, this time to dab a swab with it and run it over his arm, he tensed. It was making him nervous that he was going to get inked by someone who had no real experience with doing something like this, only on the few people that he had practiced on, and the ones that had obviously been foolish enough to entertain the idea of letting him near them with a needle.

Putting his hand up to his mouth to control his reactions, he watched as Bobby first drew an outline of the tattoo on the spot that Caleb had indicated he wanted it, and once that was through, and had given Bobby something to trace the actual design on, he winced when he picked up the special needle that would etch it into his arm.

Closing his eyes, and trying to concentrate solely on the precise art of _breathing_ , he felt a minimal amount of pain at first as Bobby worked to get the design right. The false sense of security he felt, made him relax slightly, until the procedure wore on, and he felt more pain associated with that area in general.

Drawing in a sharp breath when the needle made a bad mark, he clutched the edge of the table with his good hand, and tried to breathe through the uncomfortable operation, (which is what he honestly thought of it as), especially with the way the light was positioned over the area, and the way that Bobby had to keep stopping in order to wipe blood away from the site.

When he finally, at long last, pulled back from him, he was relieved. The procedure had probably only taken ten or twenty minutes with how fast Bobby had been working, but it had still been something that had seemed to take a lot longer in theory, and it was something that Caleb was glad to have over with as Bobby plastered a protective bandage over the area to keep it clean.

"You have to keep that on for a good twenty-four hours," Bobby said, catching the way that Caleb pulled at it uncertainly.

"Okay. What about infection?"

That was one of his main concerns associated with letting someone outside a tattoo parlor do the tatting. It wasn't that he didn't necessarily trust Bobby, it was the fact that he wasn't a licensed professional who knew how to mark skin.

"Zero chance," Bobby replied confidently as he cleaned up the equipment from the table. "I disinfected everything before I used it."

"Okay, thank you."

It was the first real interaction that he and Bobby had had with each other, and while he couldn't say that he was feeling entirely comfortable with the rough hunter yet, he was starting to see a little bit of hope for them in the future.

Standing up, with difficulty, to stretch the muscles that had been prone for so long, he went downstairs to where Jim was. He had promised to give him a personalized tour of the basement where he had a workout room for training, and a back storage area that contained all the weapons in his possession.

Holding his arm at an angle so that he wouldn't disturb the healing that it was trying to accomplish, he found Jim in the main area of the basement which also doubled as the workout room. He was studying something out of one of his books, but looked up when he heard his approach.

"I was wondering when you would come down. Did Bobby give you the-"

"Oh, yeah," Caleb said, laughing once. "He certainly did."

"I bet. Does it hurt?"

"A little bit, not a lot. Do you have one?" he asked, suddenly wondering if Jim had ever felt comfortable enough with getting one, especially with his position as a pastor in the church there.

"I do. I have one on my arm, like you do."

"I'm _shocked_ ," Caleb said teasingly.

"Well, it's not like I had much of a choice if I wanted to avoid having something demonic follow me into my church."

Even though he had been assured countless times by other, more experienced hunters that it was almost impossible for a demon to enter holy ground, he wasn't about to take chances with fate, and more importantly, the evil that seemed to constantly want to do him in for one reason or another.

It was just something that he felt more comfortable having, and was glad that Caleb had taken the plunge and had decided to trust Bobby with the big, scary needle.

"True. So you're going to give me a tour?" he asked, looking around the part of the basement that he could see. It was much larger than the one he was used to back home, and even though he knew there was a lot more to see, he was impressed with the view that he already had.

"I am. This is the room that I most often use when I want to brush up on my skills, or when I'm feeling kind of rusty."

Caleb nodded as he took in the punching bag in the corner of the room, as well as the speed bag that hung next to it. It was impressive, the equipment, and the seating arrangement in the room that gave others plenty of opportunity to observe the trainers.

"I like it. How often do you workout?"

"Whenever I feel like it."

"Works good for me," Caleb said with a shrug.

It would help him ease into the new routine if he could actually develop one based off the shaky routine that Jim held for himself. It was something that he was used to at home, the workouts. He and his brother had always been fairly active in their gyms and on the streets, and while he would be working out for a much different purpose than just for the heck of it, the same principles would still apply for him.

"Do you want to see the weapons room?" Jim asked, already moving toward a door on their immediate left that undoubtedly led to the storage room that had been transformed into a makeshift storage container for all their weapons.

It was nice, a unique way of stashing everything from the police if they undoubtedly came knocking on their doors. Waiting while his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness (and for Jim to turn on the light), he had a brief picture in his mind of what it would look like, before the reality hit him.

The walls on both ends held racks that housed all of Jim's weapons from the years that he had collected them. One wall held a row of rifles that were hung, another held a row of handguns, and yet another wall housed other different forms of weaponry, as a floor-level display case held all the rounds that Jim had either managed to make himself, or buy.

"This is-" Caleb started to say, in awe of the sight that had befallen his eyes.

"Pretty amazing, isn't it?"

"This is all yours?"

Jim nodded, as he ventured further into the room to inspect the contents inside it. "Everything that I've managed to collect over the years. Most of it has been updated, of course, but this is the one place where I keep it for quick and easy use."

"Pretty smart," Caleb said, nodding his head in agreement.

"And I keep an extra firearm in my nightstand drawer, too," Jim explained, "just in case something breaks in in the middle of the night."

"Right."

There was so much to learn, so little time. He knew that now that the supernatural had targeted him, it would only be a matter of time before something else happened again. While this kind of life was something that he would have gladly cast aside given the chance, it wasn't anything he could help anymore.

"Bobby said you did good shooting."

"Did he, really?"

Jim nodded. "He did. When that arm of yours heals up, we'll do more training. Maybe we can even take you on a salt and burn one of these days, with you doing the work."

"What if I screw up?"

"Only way you'll learn."


	15. Chapter 15

_One Month Later_

It had been one thing to learn about the ins and outs of hunting from the professionals who did it for a living day in and day out. It was _quite_ another matter altogether to assume the role of trainee, who was expected to recite Latin phrases at the drop of a hat, and more importantly, fire on target without a single miss for the entire training session.

Some of it was rewarding—especially the times that Caleb _actually_ managed to recite the exorcism ritual that Bobby had been (impatiently) teaching him, and shoot off the gun into the moving targets that Bobby had set up.

Most of it was daunting work—especially when the guys put him on the spot with his training—making him recite the odd phrases, or making him take apart and assemble the guns within a certain time frame, but he knew that was the only way he would learn fast, by going at it with both guns blazing and not a second spent to question the sanity in it, or his own mortality which had become a hot issue for him.

Though he hadn't been allowed near any actual jobs before, he knew from speaking with Jim that the first thing he would be allowed to go on, would be a simple salt and burn in one of the local cemeteries.

In theory, it didn't seem like a big deal to break in in the middle of the night and dig up the stiff that was going around town ganking people, but he knew that the physical exertion was the one thing that would hold him back for awhile, since it was work that had to be done quickly, and it also happened to be extremely strenuous.

But for the most part, he had excelled in his training, except for the few minor blips in the road that he had to learn quickly to move on from if he wanted to perform even better the next day. Even Bobby, (who was getting close to returning home to South Dakota), had to admit that he was getting better with each passing day.

Either it was because of his lineage in coming from a line of police officers, or it was his own good luck at picking up the talent so quickly, but he had picked up the finer points of shooting targets, and had moved up fast in that area of his workouts, and while he tried not to let it show on his face, he was pleased with the results of his hard work.

It wasn't easy to pack everything up, move to Minnesota, and resume a new life for himself, all with the intention being that he would protect his remaining family from further harm, and would also save a few lives along the way. It was scary, a lot of it, but he had quickly learned to shove that fear down and replace it with a steel-like determination that carried him through some of the more tougher days that he had.

On one particularly rainy morning, the kind of day that ruled shooting out, he was lounging on the couch in the living room, having finally gotten the courage to venture out of his bedroom that he holed himself up in, and was indulging in a little bite of productive reading.

The 'Help Wanted' ads had become his friend when he was bored and looking for something to do with his time. Though he knew what it would look like to have a felony arrest on his record, especially since it hadn't been expunged off his record yet, he was hoping that an employer would look past all that, and see the hardworking guy that he truly was.

Circling a job that looked somewhat promising, he wrote the number down for later, and leaned back, closing his eyes as he tried to catch some sleep while he could. Though his insomnia had gotten better since he had gotten to Minnesota, he still had the occasional night when his brain would choose to brutally remind him of everything that had happened the last few weeks, and while those memories were already ingrained in his brain during the waking hours, it was difficult to put up with during his period of rest, too.

Barely lifting his head when the phone rang in the kitchen, he tiredly palmed his face, before resigning himself to fate, and lifting himself off the comforts of the couch to go and answer whatever problem next awaited him. Though most of the calls that came in, came for Jim, he noticed that some of the pointless advertisers had started calling for _him_ as well, no doubt having heard from Jim, or from some of the gossipers around town, that he was living in the pastor's home.

"Hello?" he said, leaning against the wall, as he waited for whoever it was to speak up.

_Hi. Caleb?_

Scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion, he adjusted his stance as he sank down into one of the few available seating arrangements at the kitchen counter.

"Dawn?"

Last he had heard from his new attorney, she had been relocating her business to there, where she had an office under construction, but the last time they had truly seen each other, had been at his arraignment, when he had been given bond despite the numerous (and pointless) arguments made by the State.

_Are you in Minnesota still?_

The way she said it, as though she was honestly beginning to doubt her client's whereabouts, and while he had tried to make himself as available to her as he possibly could, it had been difficult when he had been adjusting to everything happening to him at once, and the training course that he had adapted to with Bobby and Jim.

"Yeah, why?" he asked, as he cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder.

 _It's just...the prosecution's office_ did _drop the charges against you, right?_

"Yeah," Caleb said, "because they boned up something and lost the blood evidence, right?"

No one apart from he, Jim and Bobby knew that Jim had broken into the DA's office, and had stolen and destroyed the files related to his ongoing murder investigation, thus giving the prosecution no other choice but to eventually drop the case due to lack of evidence, while they tried to investigate how the files had been lost.

_Right. You were never found 'not guilty' and so that gives them free reign to pony up new charges if they ever find it._

"Right," he said, "but that's never going to happen, because the most incriminating evidence they had against me, is null and void."

_Well...that's what I was calling you about, actually._

" _What_?" he said with a groan, as he palmed his face.

It seemed that he had barely gotten out from underneath the prying eyes of the police, and their insane theories of how he supposedly killed his wife, and now Dawn was implying that something _else_ was happening back in his hometown?

 _They retested the knife, Caleb, and they have the_ exact _same results that they got last time. They have it documented again, and this time there's no way they're letting that file out of their sight._

Caleb shook his head in complete and utter shock. It didn't seem real that they were going after him again, and even though it made sense since they were apparently incapable of conducting a _real_ murder investigation, it still stung in a way that he hadn't been familiar with before this.

Scrubbing a hand through his rapidly welling eyes, he tried to gather his thoughts together as much as he could before he attempted to formulate his next coherent thought.

"But the judge threw out the case before because they lost the evidence because of the knife-"

 _They still had the option of retesting the knife, Caleb, and they had preserved the knife in their lab so that whatever results they got next, would be reliable_ and _viable._

"So what are they doing with it?"

It was terrifying to ask, especially since they had arrested him for murder the _second_ they had gotten the positive blood test back. They had no way of knowing that it was a shape-shifter that had its blood on the knife, blood that mimicked his exactly because of the shifter taking his form.

He couldn't believe that, even though it had been a distinct possibility, the police were _still_ going after him. Never mind the fact that he hadn't had a single arrest before all this, never mind the fact that he and Katie had resolved each and every single one of their fights before it got ugly, and never mind the fact that he had a solid alibi to back up his claims that he was working the night she died.

_They are filing a new indictment with the courts here. They—based off the—the forensic evidence on the knife, they want to say first degree murder, but they're having a problem nailing down a motive that's basically a requirement for filing something that huge._

Of course.

Why would he allegedly go to all the trouble of killing his wife, if he didn't have a pretty strong motive for doing it? It made no sense, and if the prosecution was so sloppy that they didn't have the smarts to nail down a motive, he knew that any legal action taken against him, would be short-lived, or at least he hoped.

"So," he said, struggling to draw breath through the ever increasing panic that he could feel go through his veins like hot lava. "What's going to happen if they end up filing it _despite_ having no motive?"

_I'm trying to stall that as much as I possibly can, but there's no telling whether the judge will go for it or not. I also told him that I needed more time to prepare my defense, which is true, but it's also used more as an excuse to stall than anything._

_If,_ she warned, _the judge_ doesn't _buy it, which is possible, you could be required to come back to Dallas to face these charges. If that happens, I'll try to make a case for you to go back willingly, under your own power and means, but if that is denied, you could face extradition._

Caleb shook his head in simple disbelief at what she was saying to him. They, the police, had no way of knowing that what he was saying, was _true_ , but that still didn't mean it was right of them to go after him simply because he was the _only_ suspect they had managed to cook up so far.

The alibi was the one thing that he couldn't _believe_ they weren't paying closer attention to, and that they weren't believing when he told them that it was absolutely true. It was maddening, it was frustrating.

He had just managed to get some semblance of normalcy back in living in Minnesota, and now he might be faced with going back to Dallas to face whatever bogus charges they had managed to dream up?

It wasn't right—it wasn't fair.

"What else are they saying?"

He wasn't sure he was emotionally strong enough to hear it, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to rest with the idea of something else hanging over his head. It was too bad, but he preferred the truth than some sugarcoated version of it.

_There's something else that they're saying...there are these new laws that are coming into play that will protect any fetus that is killed in the commission of a murder. There are certain guidelines for different stages of development, but they're seeing if the current situation applies to this, and if it does, they want to add an additional charge on because the baby died as a direct result of Katie dying._

This time, Caleb couldn't stop the tears that ran down his face like a river. It had been bad enough to lose his wife in such horrifying and gruesome circumstances, but to also know that their innocent baby had died in the womb as a result, was even worse on him mentally, and now hearing that the DA was looking to charge him with an additional murder count for the baby's death, was absolutely sickening and terrifying to him.

"So you're saying that because the baby died because Katie was murdered-"

 _Most of the blows that Katie suffered from, were to her abdomen,_ Dawn said gently, _and even_ if _the baby, somehow managed to survive after that vital life supply was cut off, the damage to that area of her stomach, was too great._

Caleb nodded, sucking in a deep breath as he tried to control himself before he lost it completely. He was so close to rebuilding his life around these people who had been kind enough to not only give him a home to stay in, but to teach him the ways of life necessary to survive the supernatural mess.

"I am _so_ close, Dawn, to rebuilding what's left of my life after that mess, and now I hear that I have to possibly go _back_ there?"

_I'm sorry, I really am. I am doing everything in my power to stall this, to file appeals stating that they're being biased toward you. I am doing everything to sway the judge in our favor. He's the one that holds the ultimate power here, not the prosecution, and unfortunately, not me._

"So what comes next?"

_Next I have to wait for the judge to call me back, and let me know what's going to happen. It's very possible, Caleb, that nothing will come of this. It's possible that the judge will want to see more proof before he agrees to accept the charges._

Caleb nodded, trying to allow that small tidbit of hope to sink into his soul. "Okay, so when should you know what they're going to do?"

_Within the next day or two—there's no time frame, actually. Whenever the appeal I filed gets on the judge's desk, and whenever the prosecution is heard._

"Perfect."

* * *

Dawn's conversation haunted him throughout the rest of the day, as he tried to find _something_ to occupy his mind _away_ from the thought of going back to jail, and going on trial for something that he had no part in. It was maddening, but first and foremost, it was scary as he tried to envision himself willingly traveling back to Dallas to turn himself over to the police, yet again.

Though he knew that he didn't deserve something like this happening to him again, the police didn't know that, and as far as they knew, he had something to answer for in the murder of his wife. It tore at his heart in ways that he didn't even think possible, especially when he knew that it had been something supernatural that had caused his wife to be killed.

Not by his hand.

Trying to achieve sleep had been the only thing he could think of to get his mind off the pressing fact that he would soon be hearing back from Dawn as to the status of the investigation, and what the judge had ultimately decided to with the information that he had been given by the prosecution.

Walking up the stairs, he turned into his bedroom, closed and locked the door and fell on top of the bed. His body was more worn out than he had originally thought, and while it had been lovely to _actually_ obtain the sleep that he had wanted, it didn't last long, not when other people lived in the house, and not when his mind jolted him back to reality far before he was ready.

Soon enough, he heard a knock on the door that signified that Jim was home. Bobby had gone back to South Dakota the previous week, with the promise of returning as soon as his schedule was clear, and the ability to find a good, reliable person to watch over his property and his business while he was gone.

Getting up from the comforts of the bed, he unlocked the door to allow Jim access to the room. It was clear that the hunter had just returned home from a busy day at the church. Even though he wasn't required to work on the weekdays, he sometimes elected to go in and help with some of the events that the church was putting on, and to oversee any renovations that would be put in place. It was grueling work all by itself without the hunting factored into it.

"Hey," Caleb said, scrubbing a hand over his face, trying to wipe the last of the sleep from his sore eyes. "Did you just get off?"

"You can say that," Jim said, as Caleb followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen, where a cup of coffee was much needed for their worn out nerves, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. "I was supervising some new renovations for the church, paint jobs and that sort of thing."

"So you weren't actually _working_ ," Caleb said, raising an eyebrow. "You were just babysitting other people."

"Basically, yes. What about you?"

Caleb shrugged, not knowing how to break the news to him that he might possibly be charged with murder again, only this time with the probability of being charged for his baby's death, too.

"Not too much. I got a call from Dawn, though," he said, as he sank down into one of the kitchen chairs.

"What did she say?" Jim asked, removing the rim of the coffee cup from his lips.

"Nothing good," Caleb said. "She said that the DA still had the knife in their possession, in their lab, and they retested it for the same evidence, and they found it again."

"The blood?"

"Yeah. So now they want to charge me— _again_ —with murder in the first degree. Now they're also saying that because Katie was pregnant when she died, they want to tack on an additional murder charge for the baby because he or she died as a direct result of the injuries that Katie sustained to her...stomach."

Having to relive her death over and over again, was the last thing he felt like doing. It was something he had worked hard to attempt to move past, and having it constantly brought back up by the police and DA, was something that he hadn't counted on.

Jim was silent for a minute as he processed the absolutely stunning words that Caleb had just spoken to him. It seemed unreal that they could get Caleb out of a positively horrible situation, only for it to be brought back with a vengeance.

He was a man of faith, someone who believed in the power of positive thinking, and a higher power that would make right the wrongs that had been committed against them, but the atrocity in which the DA in Dallas was acting against his friend, was something he had a hard time overcoming.

Scrubbing a hand over his mouth, he turned back to face his silent friend. If _he_ was stunned, he couldn't _imagine_ the emotional hell that Caleb was going through in that instant, and he knew that whatever feelings he had toward the situation, he would have to shove aside in favor of helping his friend overcome this, and help him through the next few days and weeks.

"So what is Dawn saying we do?" he finally asked, once he was somewhat sure of himself, and his ability to be the pillar of strength that he knew Caleb needed him to be.

"Nothing right now. She's filed an appeal with the courts, and the judge that's supposed to rule on it, will be doing it within the next day or two probably."

"Okay, what about any other issues?"

"If," Caleb said, swallowing back roughly. "The judge rules in favor of the prosecution, I will probably have to face either extradition, or me going back willingly, on my own power."

"Well," Jim said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "They don't have our means. They don't know our ability to hide, and they certainly don't know our strength, do they?"

"I guess not."

* * *

Caleb knew that the only reason Jim was agreeing to take him out on a salt and burn—his first—was so that he could get his mind off of what was happening to him in the legal world. It was still a nice change from the usual shooting and punching that he did as part of his training, and though he had excelled at all of it, he and Jim were trying to be careful and not rock the boat any more than it had been.

Still, this would be a first, and one that he fully planned on enjoying and making the most of as he and Jim got out of the car, grabbed the tools from the trunk, and walked through the darkened and deserted cemetery.

A local woman had been murdered years ago by her jealous ex after she had left him for another man, though scandalous considering the time it had happened, nothing had compared to when her ex had shot her in cold blood, and though he was later sentenced to death for his crime, and for that against her lover, her spirit had still remained in the area, haunting her ex's family and friends, even though they had done nothing to deserve the retribution she was bestowing upon them.

"Okay," Jim said, as he switched on his flashlight. "It's in the third row, if we can figure that out, and it's the fourth grave on the right. Mary Adams."

Caleb nodded as he hoisted the equipment up higher on his shoulder. It would be his duty to provide the labor that night, as he dug through the moist ground to the woman's coffin. Then, he would be allowed to salt and burn the bones and send the woman off to her final destination, wherever that place was for her.

"How do the authorities _not_ figure out that you were here?" Caleb asked, voicing one of the longstanding concerns that he had about the entire thing.

"They have their suspicions, but they can't pin it on any one person if they didn't actually _see_ us, and this cemetery doesn't have any cameras, so we're in the clear."

"Glad you're so confident," Caleb said, shaking his head in bemusement as he and Jim finally found the right row to operate from.

"It eventually comes with the territory. You'll start to feel it pretty soon, too."

"I hope so."

With all the bad luck he had suffered from from the DA, he wasn't holding his breath that they would be able to pull off this job effortlessly. He would believe it when he saw it for himself. Too much had happened to him recently for him to feel _completely_ invincible yet.

"Okay," Jim said, as he blew out a puff of white smoke from the chilly air around them. "You have to be careful around here. Once the spirit realizes what we're doing, she'll most likely react violently, try to stop us from getting our job accomplished."

Caleb nodded. "Okay."

Armed with that precious information, his eyes trained the ground around them, trying to detect any presence that he could before something happened. The spirits didn't give too much of an advance warning, and while that usually spelled trouble for hunters, disaster could be avoided if they were at the top of their game, and Caleb fully intended on doing just that.

Once they found the correct grave marker, Caleb quickly deposited the equipment on the ground, while he grasped the shovel that would be his lifeline in quickly managing to dig through the ground to reach the coffin.

Only taking a split second to gather as much internal strength as he could, he wasted no time in plowing the shovel into the ground, throwing as much dirt away as he possibly could in his haste to reach the coffin before the spirit realized what was happening, and retaliated.

Once he felt the telltale sign of the spirit by the sharp drop in temperature, his entire body tensed with the dreaded anticipation of the spirit making her appearance too early, as he increased the pace in which he was working, with Jim standing beside him, trying to hold the flashlight steady, though it was obvious that he could detect the same thing that Caleb was.

"Got it," Caleb said, trying to catch his breath as he jumped down into the opening he had made. "Pass me the stuff. Quick!"

Nodding, Jim put down the flashlight as he prepared to pass down the oil, salt and matches. It was backbreaking work for both of them, especially Caleb, who had supplied most of the physical effort for that one hunt.

"You got to hurry," Jim warned. "It's here. I can feel it."

"Okay, I'm on it."

Fingers trembling as he hurried to get the cap of the oil off, he poured it over the skeleton of the woman, before sprinkling a heavy amount of salt over it, before accepting the hand that Jim offered him as he pulled him back on dry ground.

Heart pounding in anticipation, Caleb lit the match and threw it done into the grave. Watching the bones erupt in flames, Caleb couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the work that he had just done.

The job wasn't for wimps, and it wasn't for the faint of heart, either, and while he could have named a thousand different things that he would have rather been doing, none of those beat the incomparable feeling of saving a life, of sparing someone that would have otherwise been lost.

Overall, it had been a success.


	16. Chapter 16

The waiting game was hard for Caleb to handle—waiting for the DA back in Dallas to decide whether, in their twisted reasoning and logic, they had enough evidence to charge him—again—with the murder of his wife, and tack on an additional charge of murder for the loss of his baby during the attack. It was frustrating, it was heartbreaking, especially when he _knew_ the truth, when he knew that he would sooner _die_ himself than raise a hand to hurt his wife or child.

Unfortunately, the people who's opinion truly _mattered_ in this case, were incapable of seeing it that way. To them, he had something to answer for, and nothing anyone could say would change that skewed view opinion had of him.

The only thing standing between them charging him with two counts of first degree murder and him possibly facing extradition, was the judge in the case who held the ultimate power of deciding whether or not there was enough evidence to proceed with the case, or if he needed more proof before making his final decision.

It was an outcome that Dawn, his attorney, was fairly optimistic would happen. Caleb tried to believe her, tried to believe the optimism in which she spoke to him on the phone, but it was hard when so many things had happened that went against him directly, and when he was trying so hard to rebuild his life, and something like this happens to him again.

Jim, being a natural believer in the power of positive thinking, was trying to think along the same lines as Dawn, and convince Caleb that, no matter what decision was handed down in the next few days, they had the power and the means to make a run for it if they had to, and while Caleb tried to feel some kind of relief in that promise, it was hard when his luck had already screwed him over more times than he could count.

Trying not to think about the current situation was nearly impossible—not when it was right in his face on the worst of days—and a faint whistle in the back of his mind on the best of days. Looking for a job had been the one thing that had served as a form of distraction for him, and while he seriously doubted he would be able to accomplish much when his record was still so spotty from the felony murder arrest, he was hoping to find something, at least.

Scrubbing a hand over his face as he laid back on the sofa, he looked over at the clock on the wall. It was nearly four. He had tried sleeping some of the morning since the previous night had proved useless in that department, but hadn't been able to achieve much.

Jim would be home soon.

He was looking into some more cases that Caleb could maybe accompany him on since he had done so well with the salt and burn case that he had provided assistance for. Hunting was a great tool for getting his mind off the situation, and something that he tried to utilize as much as he possibly could.

It was nice to get out on the field and hone the skills that he had been so carefully taught over the last month and a half. It didn't account for the feeling after, when he would come down from the high of killing something, and be reminded all over again of the current situation, but it was something that worked for a little while, and he wasn't one to complain when something offered him an out.

When the phone rang in the kitchen, he almost passed on answering it. Odds are, in accordance with his luck recently, it would be Dawn, and she would inform him of the worst possible news, that the DA had made a strong case with the judge, and he had agreed to let them file the two first degree murder charges that they had been gunning to charge him with. When the phone kept ringing incessantly, he knew that he didn't have much of a choice but to go and answer it.

Sooner or later he would have to face the music anyway.

It might as well be when he was in a fairly relaxed and good mood.

Heaving himself off the couch, he took his sweet time going into the kitchen to answer it. When his hand hovered over the receiver, he hesitated only a brief second before answering it.

"Hello?" he said, as he leaned back against the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room.

_Hi, Caleb._

It was Dawn—no surprise.

Taking a deep breath, he scrubbed a hand over his face as he mentally prepared himself for whatever news that she was about to bring down on him now. It was scary, especially when he was reminded of all the things that had happened so far to him.

"Hey, girl," he said affably. "What's up?"

Not that he was sure he really wanted to know—not when everything had gone so horribly against him in the last few weeks, but he also knew that he didn't have much of a choice when the situation was so pressing and so horrible the way it was.

 _Not much_ , she said. _I spoke with the judge, though._

"What—what did he say?" he asked, trying to keep his breathing steady and at an even keel.

This was something he had both dreaded and anticipated with equal measure, and the idea that the answer was finally upon them, was something that he wasn't sure he could handle in that instant.

_He sided with us. I also had made a case that the blood evidence was too unreliable, and he agreed with me._

"So," Caleb said, struggling to understand this all. "He threw that evidence out?"

It was the outcome that he had prayed for, but hadn't been sure that he would ever get, especially with how persuasive the prosecution in Dallas was. Hearing that the judge had ruled in favor of them, had been a bright side that he hadn't ever thought he would get.

_He did. The blood evidence wasn't reliable, the judge said, especially since the first time turned out an inconclusive result. Without that evidence, they don't have much of a case against you, and they know it._

"Thank you so much."

 _I didn't really do anything_ , she said with a laugh.

"Yeah, you did. You made it so that the judge had some serious thinking time, and he ended up realizing what a boned up case the prosecution had against me."

_Well, I'm glad I could help. That's for sure._

"I am, too."


	17. Chapter 17

_One Year Later_

It was difficult to process everything that had happened to Caleb in the space of only a _year_. In those twelve months and fifty-two weeks, he went from being a happily married construction worker, to a widower who lost his wife due to supernatural means. After that, came a hell-storm of activity with him being charged with first degree murder in the death of Katie, something that the prosecution had cooked up after finding 'reasonable cause'.

Thanks to his good luck in finding two hunters, (people who hunted the supernatural for a living), he had been able to escape the stifling confines of his once beloved town, and travel back to Minnesota to learn the tricks of the trade when it concerned the delicate and precise art of hunting.

Then the prosecution had come back with a vengeance, claiming that because they retested the knife that had been used in the commission of murdering Katie, they had enough reason to go after him _again_ , this time with the promise of charging him with an additional count for first degree murder in the death of his baby who had died in the womb as a result of his wife being killed.

Dawn, his new powerhouse of an attorney, had managed to swing things in their favor, and for once, luck had firmly been on _his_ side as they won the legal battle that had gone on in Dallas, with the judge siding in their favor, ruling that the blood evidence was unreliable, and with no further proof for them to present, the case had been officially closed.

To the citizens of Dallas, Katie River's killed remained free, still loose on the streets where he had committed his first crime. While some of that was still true, especially since he and Jim had been unable to find the shape-shifter responsible for the attack, he was content with how things had turned out in his favor.

Despite it being hard to find a good, well paying job after the fiasco with the courts, he had managed to secure a job in a similar position that he had enjoyed back home. The pay was good, enabling him to have some money of his own to do with it what he wanted, that included opening up a weapons dealing business.

It was something that was semi-legal, and also gave him the opportunity to make some extra money on the side when his regular, day job failed to bring in the dough that he needed. For the most part, he still lived with Jim, something that they were both more comfortable with, especially since Caleb had barely finished training in the supernatural, and while he considered himself above a novice in that area, there was always _something_ to learn.

Even though it had been hard to find a balance after such a devastating loss, he had managed to find it with the people that he had managed to surround himself with. The people that had taken him in for better or worse, and the people that he had come to associate with as a direct result of Jim and Bobby's kindness.

Relations were even going better with Bobby, who had, at first, had an icy attitude toward Caleb when they had first met, but had eventually warmed up to him when it had become clear that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Caleb was relieved.

Though life had mostly calmed down, there was still the occasional moments of unease, where he almost expected something to go wrong purely because that was usually how it worked for him, but it was times that were exciting that made his day, times where he had a good day at work, or when he had a good customer at the shop that always made him know that, for once, his luck was firmly on the side of good.

It was early 1984.

The winter they had seen that December and January, had been among the harshest in Minnesota history. Caleb's work had been at a virtual standstill for weeks because of the treacherous road conditions, and the public state of emergency that had been declared.

Finally, conditions had calmed down enough so that he could return to work as a manager of a construction firm, and make some more money. Jim, meanwhile, was eager to return to what he did best at the church, and oversee any other events that were being held there.

It was good when they had been house bound for so long as a result of the horrible weather. When he finally got off and headed back to his place with Jim, he was struck by the sight of a Chevy Impala in the driveway.

It wasn't often that they had visitors to the house. Not unless they counted Bobby or some of the hunting friends they came to share in common, like the Harvelle family, but it was rare that someone would be coming unannounced.

Parking off to the side of the driveway so he wouldn't risk scratching the beautiful, delicate exterior of the car that had come there, he got out, swinging his supplies over his shoulder as he made his way in through the back garage door.

Once inside, he could hear low voices talking in the living room. Jim's quiet voice, and a rumble of another man's voice that he didn't recognize.

Brow furrowing in confusion, he walked in further, and was struck by the sight of two children playing quietly on the ground at the feet of Jim and the yet unidentified stranger. Pausing briefly in his actions, he stopped to admire the beautiful simplicity of those kids playing.

It was something that he had imagined once upon a time for himself, and for his wife, but things had happened, and circumstances beyond his control had intervened.

"Hey," he said, announcing his presence as he cleared his throat softly.

"Oh, good," Jim said, looking up from his conversation with the new man, as he watched Caleb venture further into the living room. "There's someone I would like you to meet. This is John Winchester, and his two boys, Sam and Dean."

"I'm Caleb, it's nice to meet you," Caleb said, as he shook the man's hand, before turning his attention to the two kids who had watched the entire exchange curiously. The older one, Dean, was watching him carefully, as though he suddenly expected him to do something crazy, and while he understood the precaution, he wanted to make the kids feel at ease.

"This is Dean," John said, beckoning the boy over to his side. "This is Caleb, Dean. He's a good guy."

"Hi," Dean said, in typical five-year-old speak.

"Hey, buddy," Caleb said, smiling softly as he bent down on his level in order to make him feel more secure in his presence. "I'm Caleb."

"I'm Dean. That's Sammy over there," he said, motioning to his little brother who was crawling around the floor, intent on playing with some of the toys that had been brought over.

"Is he your brother?" he asked, trying to make conversation with him.

"Yeah. He's really annoying, though."

"Well, take it from me, most brothers are."

Dean actually laughed, and taking a look at his father and the way that he smiled, he guessed that it was the first time he had heard that precious sound in awhile.

"So," Caleb said, as he eased himself down on the floor to play with Sam. "What's going on?"

He was wondering how Jim had met this guy, and how he had felt comfortable enough to invite them back to their home. Not that he minded, especially with the chance he was being given to play with the boys, but he was also curious.

"My wife," John explained quietly, so he wouldn't upset the boys. "Was...was killed by a demon a few months ago. I've been trying to track it down, and I heard about Jim and I tracked him down at his church."

"I invited he and the boys back here," Jim filled in.

"I'm sorry about your wife," Caleb said, looking over at John. "I lost mine, too."

"Same thing?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Pretty much."

It wasn't often that he found some poor fool who had fallen into the same circumstances as he was in. Only this time, if possible, it was even worse because John had two boys that he needed to look after.

"It's been rough," John said, looking over at the boys as Dean tried to engage Sam in building a block castle. "Especially for the boys, and having to move around so much. Dean misses Mary a lot, and he's confused as to why she isn't around anymore."

"You...you take the boys hunting?" Caleb asked, not quite able to control the frown that appeared over his face.

Even though he was still a stranger to many of the more intricate aspects of hunting, he knew enough to know that he couldn't imagine being in a situation that required taking little boys on hunting trips.

That was no place for little, little kids, and that was exactly what Sam and Dean were, too. Little kids who were innocent victims of this cruel world that had cropped up on them by chance, and by a sick twist of irony.

"No," John said, shaking his head. "Sometimes," he said, looking increasingly uncomfortable under the gaze that Caleb was giving him. "I have to leave them in the motel room for brief...periods."

Caleb wisely chose to refrain from making comment. He knew that if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from lambasting the new hunter for choosing to leave his children alone in skeevy motel rooms by themselves, especially no doubt, with Dean acting as the caregiver for a less than one year old little baby.

"Is that really wise?" Caleb asked.

"Probably not, but I don't really have a choice."

"You can always leave them here," Jim said, smiling down at the little boys.

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"Yeah, it's better than leaving them alone where some monster could get to them."

No one could argue with that. It was absolutely true that it was safer to leave the boys with people that knew what they were doing, vs leaving them alone in an unprotected motel room where evil could come and break in at any second.

John ended up leaving the boys for a few days while he went to investigate a poltergeist haunting a few states over. Those were the easy jobs that hunters most often looked for when they were seeking something new to do, and while Caleb loved helping Jim take care of the boys for those few days, he felt bad for them, too.

Dean was quiet, reserved, hardly ever speaking or interacting unless spoken to first, and when he was his most animated was when he was helping Sam with something, or making silly airplane noises while he was attempting to feed him.

So far, Caleb had been the only one to break through the wall he had built around himself since his mother's death, and he was glad. He had always loved children, and since he had lost the chance to have one of his own, he basked in the opportunity he got to hang out with John's boys.

"Sammy's sleeping," Dean stated proudly as he climbed down the stairs where he had been helping Jim put him down for a nap.

"Did you read to him again?" Caleb asked, as he bent over his guns, making sure that he was cleaning them out correctly.

"Yes," Dean said, nodding his head as he climbed into an adjoining seat to watch what he was doing. "I read _Dr. Suess_ to him."

"Good for you, sport," Caleb said, smiling as he teasingly ruffled his hair.

He had been the only one to get Dean talking, and while he was glad that he had managed to do that, he was hoping to get him more comfortable interacting with people who weren't his father or his little brother.

"Thanks," Dean said with an uncharacteristically (for his age) shrug. "He likes it so I do it."

"Does your Dad ever read to you?" Caleb asked, glancing over at him.

"Not really," Dean admitted, bowing his head as he looked at the guns that Caleb was cleaning. "When he's not drinking, he's sleeping or going over research."

"Oh. Well, he's dealing with a lot right now. Just like you are," Caleb said, looking over at him. "He loves you both, I can see that."

"I know, but it still stinks when he makes me take care of Sammy. Not that I mind," he added quickly, as though he was afraid Caleb would doubt his devotion to his brother, "but I wish Daddy would help me when he's there."

"He will one of these days," Caleb promised him, internally seething with anger at the unfair position John was putting on a _five-year-old_. It was absolutely horrifying to him, and while he would have loved to have pulled John aside and give him a piece of his mind, he knew that would only bring about disaster in the end.

"I hope so. He doesn't like talking about Mommy. He says that I shouldn't, either. It makes me sad that she was with me one second, and gone the next."

Caleb nodded, reaching down to squeeze Dean's shoulder comfortingly. "I know that it might hurt to talk about your Mom, dude, but don't ever avoid it if you want to talk about her. You can, it's okay."

"But Dad will get mad at me if I do that," Dean reminded him.

"I know."

John had plainly learned to close himself off to the grief that had clearly assaulted his senses, and while that was something that Caleb had done himself to some degree, he couldn't imagine denying his children the right to know their mother through the memories that John had of her, and while he wasn't in his shoes and didn't know the things he did, it was still something that made him upset for Dean.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, obviously wanting to forget the talk he and Caleb had just engaged in. It was unusual for him to open up to people that he barely knew, but he liked the warm and open way that this man interacted with he and his brother, and he liked that he liked to have fun and play fun games with them.

It was something he hadn't had since his mother had been alive—since Mommy had engaged them in different activities, and had always allowed Dean to kiss and hold his little brother whenever he wanted to, which was quite often.

"I am cleaning out my gun," Caleb explained carefully, not knowing how much, if anything, John had revealed about the supernatural, and not wanting to accidentally reveal something he wasn't supposed to.

"Why?" Dean asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.

That answered his unspoken question to himself—and he was glad that he now had a certain guideline for how much he could say safely to Dean, who was incredibly bright for his age, and what he couldn't.

"Because it needs to be cleaned out once in awhile."

"Why?"

"Because," Caleb grinned. "If it's dirty inside, it will make it harder to shoot things."

Mainly the various supernatural baddies that he encountered on his jobs, but he wasn't about to go opening that can of worms with him. Not unless John wanted him to, and not unless he absolutely needed to.

"What do you shoot?" Dean asked, as he casually rested his arm on the counter, making himself comfortable.

"Oh, cans and other targets like that."

That had been during the beginning stages of his training. Of course, he had now graduated to tougher game that included all kinds of demons and monsters that were bullet weak.

"Can I try?"

"Well, I think you should run that past your Dad, but I could teach you if he wanted me to."

"Cool!"

Caleb nodded, smiling, glad that he had cracked through yet another barrier of Dean's. "It is cool sometimes, but you always have to remember to respect the weapon, that's the number one rule, Dean."

"Because it can shoot you in the !@#$%^&*?" Dean supplied bluntly.

"How do you know to say that?" Caleb asked, wondering if John had gotten careless in his grief and had started using bad language around him.

"Daddy says !@#$%^&* sometimes when he's mad, or when he's talking to someone that doesn't like him."

"Oh, well, that's your Dad, but you don't really want to be saying that at your age."

"Is it naughty?"

"It can be."

"Oh."

Dean seemed to take his advice seriously, and he was relieved about that.

* * *

John returned the following day from his poltergeist hunt. The boys, especially Dean, were thrilled to see him alive and healthy, and so were the guys. While he had checked in fairly regularly with the guys, it hadn't been the same as making sure that he was okay with their own two eyes.

"Were you boys good?" John asked, as he balanced Dean on his knee.

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy," John said, as he looked down at his other knee which had Sam sitting on it. "And what about you, Sammy?"

Sam gurgled in response, not fully able to converse yet, even though the desire was clearly there.

"How did it go?" Jim asked quietly, once the boys had gotten down to play on the floor.

"It went okay. The owners of the house weren't entirely receptive to me being there, but they saw my point once a bookcase almost slammed into the husband."

"Well, I'm glad that crisis was averted," Caleb said, as he looked back at the kids. "Where are you off to next?"

"I'm not quite sure yet," John answered honestly. "I do appreciate everything that you two did in helping me with Sam and Dean, and with getting more answers about my wife," he added, looking over at Jim.

"You're welcome," Jim said, smiling kindly.

"Yeah," Caleb said, scratching a hand over his face. "Whenever you need to go out on a job or anything, don't hesitate to bring the kids over. There's no need for them to be alone in a motel room," he added, fixing John with a glance.

He hoped that he wasn't overstepping his boundaries with the new hunter, but he couldn't stand the idea that Dean and Sam would be left alone to fend for themselves in a strange and unfamiliar location.

"Thank you," John said. "I'll take that under consideration."

It was on the edge of Caleb's tongue to say more, but instead, he nodded. "Okay, sounds good," he finally said, once he was sure he wouldn't leap off the couch and strangle this man for his stubbornness.

Overall, it had been excellent to meet the boys


	18. Chapter 18

As time went on, John and the boys ended up being somewhat permanent fixtures around Minnesota. Caleb didn't complain or object to their presence, and got along with John when he wasn't making thinly veiled reference to the fact that he would soon have to start training Dean, but what he _really_ lived for was seeing the boys.

Caleb had always wanted kids of his own, and when the demon had killed his wife and eliminated that longstanding dream of his, his heart had been crushed by the loss of such an innocent life by such horrible, evil means. Little had he known that he would soon be granted the joy of knowing two little boys who were both so adorable in their own ways, and who lit up whatever room they wandered into.

It wasn't often that John would make the drive _just_ for the sole purpose of dropping the kids off before a job, even though Caleb and Jim both campaigned for him to start doing it so the boys wouldn't be put in needless danger.

It made Caleb _sick_ thinking about Sam and Dean alone in a seedy motel room while their father was off fighting whatever monster of the week had caught his interest. The life was no place for an adult, much less two innocent children who wouldn't have the faintest idea of what to do if and when something sneaked past their father and broke into the motel.

It was only a matter of time, especially when John was so ill-prepared still, so new to the life that had happened upon him in much the same way that it had dropped on Caleb. He didn't mean to pass silent judgment on John, not when their circumstances were so eerily similar, but he couldn't stand it when the kids suffered as a direct result of John's carelessness.

The first time he and Dean met, they had hit it off right away, with Dean even venturing so far as to confide in Caleb about his father, and how he often drank to ease the suffering he was in over his lost mother, and while it was clear that Dean didn't really know the precise reason why his mother wasn't there, it was obvious he was hurting over it, and only to add insult to injury, he wasn't 'allowed' to speak his mother's name in front of John.

Caleb understood that grief better than almost anyone, but it made him made that John was prohibiting his son from enjoying the beautiful memories of his mother, and passing them along to his brother who would only be raised with the recollections of others, since he had been far too young to possess any of his own.

Whenever John would decide to make the couple hour drive to Minnesota to drop the boys off, Caleb was relieved. That meant that he had obviously screwed his head on right that week and had chosen the boys' safety over his concerns of missing the job.

It was always a fine line with John—and Caleb fully realized that better than anyone. That was what kept him back from speaking his mind to the novice hunter about what he was doing to the boys, especially Dean, who was old enough (and smart enough) to realize that something was wrong, that it wasn't normal to go from motel to motel on a regular, rotating basis.

He knew that if he voiced any of these concerns to John, he would probably never see the kids again, and though he tried talking to Dean and get him to open up to him more, it was clear that he was still guarded with what he said, as though he was afraid that Caleb would tell John about their conversations, which he never would for fear of what the new hunter would do with that intelligence.

It had been a few weeks since Caleb had seen the boys. John had dragged the boys off to Montana to hunt a spirit related job. It was those kinds that made Caleb feel just the slightest bit better about the boys' involvement in the supernatural world, but it was only a matter of time before John found bigger game, and when that happened, Caleb had no idea what he would do when it concerned the kids.

Even though the boys weren't his biologically, he was already feeling a strong attachment to them, especially Dean, who he could tell was feeling the same way. It gutted him when he pictured them alone and scared in some room while their father was off on a suicide mission to avenge his wife's death.

When the boys and John finally walked through the house, he was relieved. It had been awhile since he had last seen them, and was glad to see for his own two eyes that they appeared to be in relatively good condition.

Dean's face, he noticed, lit up when he saw him. In a way, it was sad that he was beginning to associate Caleb with happiness, someone who was somewhat normal and liked to hang out and have fun, and who took the time to talk to him and try to understand him, something he bet Dean rarely got from his own father.

Sam gurgled happily in John's arms, clearly enthralled with the new stimulation he was getting from being in a new place. Setting Sam down on the ground where there was some toys for him to choose from, John walked over to Caleb and beckoned him over to the couch, clearly wanting to divulge something that the boys weren't allowed to hear.

Sighing, knowing that it had to be something big (and stupid, probably), Caleb obliged and sat down with him.

"What's up?" Caleb said. "I haven't seen you guys in awhile."

From his tone, he hoped to convey to John that he didn't think it funny when the hunter would disappear for weeks without letting anyone know where or what he was up to. It wasn't funny when they were in the kind of world they were in, especially when he factored in the boy's safety above everything else.

"I was doing some odd jobs around the state."

"What kind?"

"The kind that would hopefully get me information on my wife, and what killed her."

That had been John's single obsessions since the tragedy of the fire that had destroyed their lives, and their home. Caleb sympathized with him, he did. It wasn't funny to be in the spot John was in, and he was more than happy to hear him out.

"Did you get anymore information?"

"Nothing solid. Yet."

"What does that mean?" Caleb asked, as he spared a glance over at the kids.

Dean was busy teaching Sam the finer art of crawling, which Sam had seemed to pick up like a pro. It was the walking that John (and Dean) was most anxious for him to start.

"I might have found something in Alaska."

"What?"

"A crocotta, I think it is. Some hunters I met a few states away from here, seemed to think that I could wrangle some information from it."

Caleb shook his head; he knew that this day would come, and while he thought that he would be better prepared to handle it, he realized that he wasn't. Big game like a crocotta, which had the ability of luring its victims in by the sound of their loved ones voice, also had the power of killing them much like a vampire would.

It was something that most experienced hunters had problems with, and while Caleb had never gone up against one himself, he had heard enough horror stories to last him a lifetime.

"John," Caleb began, as he clasped his hands in front of him. "I don't think it's very wise right now for you to go and try to take this on."

"Why not?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. "If this is the thing that killed her-"

"I understand, but the risk, in this situation, will most likely outweigh the result. This is dangerous, it really is. These things use your weakness, in this case your wife, to trap you and once that happens, it's not likely you'll make it back out again."

John fell silent, and Caleb realized that he was starting to consider his words as fact, though he doubted that indecision would last for long, and he was right.

"I have to try, Caleb. Wouldn't you do the same thing if you got word about your wife?"

Caleb nodded, not able to deny his words. "I would, but this is something different, John, and we're not talking about me right now."

"This thing tore my life apart," John explained. "I have to go and see if I can end this here and now."

Caleb shook his head incredulously, and also in anger. To him, it was almost like John was putting this crazy mission of his above his children, and while he knew that was most likely not the reality of it, it felt that way to him.

"What about the boys?" Caleb asked. "You're just going to leave them and risk them losing you, too?"

"I won't—nothing will happen to me," John said, denying Caleb's words.

"That's the false sense of security that we sometimes get," Caleb said. "Look, if you don't want to to forgo this job, then take someone with you."

"Caleb-"

"John, I mean it. Don't be an idiot."

"I'm not, but I need to know."

"Then take someone," Caleb pressed. "I have a bad feeling, John, don't do this."

"I have to," he said, standing up as he went over to where the kids were.

Caleb watched as he crouched down to speak with them. He couldn't make out a lot of what he was saying, but he saw Dean's shoulders slump in upset, and it was clear that John had just announced his intention of leaving again.

"Be safe," Caleb said, as he watched John gather up his supplies.

"I will be."

The boys and Caleb watched silently as the door swung closed. Caleb sat still for a few minutes as he tried to get rid of the feeling that he was getting in the pit of his stomach that something would go wrong with the job.

It wasn't an easy feeling to rid himself of. Not when he knew the history of that monster, and what it could do to John if he allowed it to.

"Caleb," Dean said, as he climbed up on the couch next to him. "Where is Daddy going?"

"He's going on a little trip," Caleb explained, as he sunk himself down to the floor where Sam was. "He'll be back in a few days."

"Why doesn't he want to take us?"

"Because," Caleb said, as he pulled Dean into his lap. "He thinks that you guys will have a lot more fun here," he explained, as he tickled a delighted Sam.

"He's right about that," Dean said, nodding in agreement.


	19. Chapter 19

It was a relief for Caleb when the boys were in Minnesota with he and Jim. Even though he _knew_ that John was a capable and skilled hunter, much like _he_ was, it still scared him when he factored the boys into the equation of that. John, for all his success at managing to train himself for the supernatural, had also taken the boys along for the ride, and even though he knew that they loved their dad and didn't seem to be any worse for wear, it was still hard on them to _constantly_ put up with the strain of moving from place to place when they they had barely adjusted to life with only _one_ parent.

Sam, at almost a year old of age, didn't seem to have the same issues that his older brother was having with it. To him, the world was still the same, slightly confusing place that it had been yesterday. He knew that he was loved and appreciated by his brother and father, and that he was taken care of, and that sufficed for someone of his age.

For Dean, who was five and a little more intuitive than most children his age, he knew more than what the adults gave him credit for. He knew that his Mom had died in a fire in his brother's nursery and that was why they traveled all over the place, because his dad couldn't stand to be in the same place that his Mom had died in, but it was also confusing for him because he remembered more than Sam did, and that included the father that held no compunctions about picking him up after a long, exhausting day at the garage, and taking him out to play T-Ball with him.

That was the John that Dean knew and cherished, and the one that he was sorely missing, but would never tell him out of fear that John would look upon him with less love, less appreciation, because any reference to that time back in Lawrence, where their lives had been peaceful and normal and happy, was something that his dad simply could not handle right then.

Being in Minnesota, for Dean, was like a reversal back to where things weren't so hard. Here, even though he didn't mind taking care of his brother, he could surrender some of that responsibility and allow Caleb or Jim to take on some of that heavy duty work, and it didn't hurt that Caleb and Jim both loved he and Sam, especially Caleb, who Dean had taken an instant liking to.

Caleb was the one who seemed to take a genuine interest in he and his brother, and especially took the chance to get to know him and respond to him. Dean had actually loved getting the opportunity to talk to him one on one, and tell him things about his father that he hadn't had the chance to tell anyone before, and while it had been nice to do all that, he loved picking his brains about the impressive looking guns he shot off, and the fact that Caleb loved playing games with he and Sam.

But even though he loved Minnesota and the peaceful atmosphere that it gave off, he couldn't quite escape the feeling of longing that he felt for his father when he went away on long trips. He was doing that more and more frequently, leaving on journey's that he and his brother couldn't go on with him.

Either he would be required to watch his brother for hours while his father was off doing whatever it was that he did, or he would drop him off at his friend's houses so they could watch them. Dean honestly preferred it that way, instead of the near constant feeling of being scared and alone with his brother, especially during thunder storms or when the tree branch outside the motel window would screech against the window, alarming both of them.

As he tore himself away from his silent musings, musings which were much too mature and serious for a child his age, he saw the glass of milk that he had neglected to finish before. Grasping it tightly in his little hand, he finished it in one gulp and put the Dinosaur themed cup down.

It was early afternoon. Sam was still sleeping upstairs in the room that Caleb and Jim had put together for them when they had first started coming over. It was nice, instead of sleeping grouped together in one bed, he and Sam had been afforded the chance to actually have their own separate ones for a change.

Scrubbing his wrist against his mouth, he hopped off the stool and went off in search of something to occupy his mind with. Even though he had been forced to grow up far too early for his age, that didn't mean that he still didn't react with typical childlike behaviors, and especially when he was bored and couldn't find something to entertain himself with.

Walking into the living room that was connected to the kitchen, he saw Caleb bent over something as he read it. He was used to that when his daddy would pour over something important, something that he couldn't tell him about.

Either it was a grown-up story, he figured, or it was something that he wasn't ready to share with him yet. Either way, he was looking for something to lighten his mind up a little bit.

"Hey, kiddo," Caleb said. "Did you just come in?"

Dean nodded. "Yes. I finished my lunch."

"Good. I'm glad," Caleb said, as he teasingly ruffled his hair up.

"What are you doing?"

"Not too much. Just reading something."

"What kind of something?" Dean asked, as he took it upon himself to climb into Caleb's lap.

"Something that's for grown-ups," Caleb said carefully, knowing what a thin line he was treading when it came to the kids and them asking questions.

It was the one thing that he respected about John, that he was trying as hard as he could, to not let them get involved in the life until it was absolutely necessary. It was a world that children most certainly did not belong in, and Caleb intended on keeping it that way for as long as he possibly could.

"Daddy always says that, too," Dean said with a huff, clearly not thrilled that Caleb was keeping something from him again.

"Well, there are just certain things that aren't for little ears like yours," Caleb explained. "One day, when you're older, you'll know."

Against his better judgment, but he knew that the day would come when telling the boys about the supernatural, would be something that would have to be done out of necessity, and though he dreaded that day with all his heart, it would have to come so they would know to defend themselves against something bad.

"Okay. Where's Daddy?"

"He'll be back soon, Dean," Caleb promised, even though he was starting to get worried that he hadn't heard from the new hunter since he had taken off on his idiotic mission.

"But when is _soon_?" Dean pressed.

"Soon," Caleb promised. "Okay?"

"Okay."


	20. Chapter 20

Even though Caleb had put on a facade of indifference to John being gone again in front of Dean, he was starting to get worried about the new hunter. Typically, whenever John left the boys to go on a job, he always checked in with the guys, and usually always spoke with Dean to reassure him that he was alright.

Not hearing from him was unusual—and it was something that was starting to grab Caleb's attention, even though he tried his hardest to keep the worry off his face as he played with the boys for a little while before dinner. It wasn't something he felt like discussing with them, even though he knew Dean would start to have more questions if John didn't show up soon regardless.

The boys were bottomless pits where food was concerned, and normally always ate everything that was on the menu for the night, and that night was no different as they inhaled everything in sight. It was nice to see, especially since Caleb had the distinct feeling that sometimes food was scarce when John was away or on a job somewhere.

"Will Daddy be back soon?" Dean asked, once dinner was finished, and Caleb and Jim were taking the boys upstairs to get them cleaned up and ready for bed.

"I think he will," Caleb said, as he squeezed him tight.

"I hope so because he's never gone for _this_ long," Dean said, pointing out the obvious as they reached the top landing of the second floor, and made an immediate right into the bathroom where teeth had to be brushed and pajamas on to replace the day clothes they had worn out.

"I know," Caleb said softly, trying not to let Dean see how much his innocent statement had affected him as he pulled out the stool for him to reach the sink. "Now," he said playfully, trying to draw Dean's mind away from the fact that his beloved father wasn't there. "Which toothbrush is _yours_ ," he said, as he pretended to sort through the two brushes they had bought for the kids.

"This one," Dean said giggling despite himself.

"This one?" Caleb said, picking up the wrong one on purpose.

"No!" Dean said, outright laughing this time, as he reached for the correct one. " _This_ one, silly goose!"

"Oh," Caleb said, pretending to heave a sigh of relief. "Wow, you really saved my butt there, Dean. Can you give me Sam's?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, knowing how much Dean loved assisting, especially when it concerned something to do with his brother.

"Okay."

Gratefully accepting the brush, Caleb carefully squirted enough toothpaste on the brush so that the boys could brush their teeth. Dean, being the oldest at five, was mature enough to do it by himself, and he did a good enough job that Caleb felt comfortable enough focusing solely on Sam and his dental hygiene.

"Sammy, open your mouth," Caleb said, as he stood at an angle so that he could reach his mouth easier.

Sam, not completely sure of what was happening, resisted the attempts that he was making to make sure his mouth was clean, even though John had informed Caleb that he had started brushing his still developing teeth and gums.

"Make little noises," Dean suggested, as he looked over at the struggle that Caleb was having with Sam.

Following along with Dean's suggestion, Caleb made little noises enough so that Sam was distracted enough to open his mouth and allow Caleb a quick second scrub before he closed it again. Deciding to call it good, Caleb waited with the boys in the bathroom while Jim gathered their nighttime clothing.

"Thanks for helping me with Sammy," Caleb said, as he took Sam's top and bottoms off.

"No problem," Dean said casually, as he watched Caleb's progress.

"What pajamas do you want tonight?"

"Batman," Dean said. "Because he's the _coolest_ dude _ever_ , right?"

"He is," Caleb agreed. "Although, I do have to say, I'm partial to Superman."

"No way," Dean said, sticking his tongue out. "Batman can kick Superman's a-"

"Careful," Caleb warned.

"Sorry. Batman can kick Superman's butt."

"Very good."

They didn't have much of a chance to talk after Jim came back in with the boys' clothes for the night. Dean, much to his enjoyment, got to wear the selected pajamas that he wanted, while Sam was dressed in some _Dr. Suess_ pajamas.

"You boys ready for bed?" Jim asked, as they started walking toward the bedroom that the boys shared when they stayed with Caleb and Jim.

Dean nodded, running a fist over his tired eyes, as he barely managed to fend off a yawn that had been rapidly approaching. "Y-yeah."

"Okay," Caleb said, as he swooped Dean up in his arms and playfully plopped him down on his bed. "You want me to read you guys a story?" he asked, as he watched Jim wrestle Sam into his own bed.

"What story?" Dean asked, as he twisted his blanket around one finger.

" _Goodnight Moon_?"

Dean nodded, deciding that was an appropriate story for Caleb to read to them as he snuggled down in his bed, grasping his pillow tightly as he rolled over on his side for maximum comfort.

Once Caleb was finished reading the story, he ran his hand through Dean's hair, before bending down to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Goodnight, dude," Caleb said softly.

"Goodnight," Dean mumbled sleepily.

Smiling, Caleb got up and went over to Sam's crib. Lifting him up briefly, he gav him a kiss and a blow to the stomach, which resulted in him erupting into a fit of laughter as Caleb lowered him back down.

It was a relief to know that the boys were safe for now—especially since Caleb now had to figure out where John could possibly be. That would be no easy task considering he had only provided the barest of details surrounding the hunt in Alaska.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he went back downstairs where Jim was already in his study, anticipating the long night of research they had to go over.

"Are the boys asleep?" he asked, looking up when Caleb entered the room.

"Yeah. So where do you think he is?" he asked, jumping right to the heart of their conversation as he took a seat at his desk.

"I don't know. Did he tell you anything about where it was?"

"No," Caleb said, shaking his head. "The only thing he told me was that it was in Alaska. Of _course_ ," he added, "he wouldn't give me the info needed to find him."

"No," Jim said, smiling wryly. "Of course not. What do you want to do? What was he even _hunting_?"

"A crocotta."

The look on Jim's face when Caleb passed him that information, only confirmed his worst fears that something had happened on the job, and that John would have been wiser to have taken someone along with him, but no one told John Winchester what to do, and that was the most infuriating aspect of his character.

"He didn't take backup?"

Caleb shook his head. "I tried to convince him to do that, but he wouldn't hear of it."

Jim sighed. "So what do we do now?"

"We go find him. I can while you stay here with them?"

"Sounds good."

"I'll head out in the morning."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the official prequel story. I do want to write more full length stories in the Missing 'verse, but I do not want to write SO much that I end up getting writer's block again. We'll see what happens-but I'll probably take it slow.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the official prequel story to my 'Missing' Verse that I wrote when I wanted to really explore Caleb's backstory and how he came to be with Jim and Bobby, and what led him to raise Sam and Dean Winchester after the death of their father. I hope remastering this story brings a new level of creativity to allow me to rewrite and publish the other stories in the 'verse.


End file.
